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Fkitz and Don. Page 158. 








MIXED PICKLES 



EVELYN 'Bj^YMOND 



NEW YORK: 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & CO. 

46 East Fourteenth Street. 



Copyrighted, 1892, 

By Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. 


ElectrotyPed and printed by 

Alfred Mudge & Son, Boston. 




CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Chapter I ^ 

“ II i8 

in 30 

“ IV 42 

V 53 

“ VI 60 

« VII 77 

“ • VIII 85 

IX 99 

“ X 113 

“ XI 122 

“ XII 130 

« XIII 142 

“ XIV 15 1 

“ XV 169 

“ .XVI 186 

“ XVII -195 

“ XVIII 203 

“ XIX 219 

“ XX 230 

“ XXI 242 

“ XXII 251 

“ XXIII 263 

“ XXIV 274 


% 


MIXED PICKLES. 


CHAPTER 1. 

“ Oh ! ” gasped Grandmother Capers, throwing 
her hands upward with a gesture of dismay; 
“ oh, what a terrible infliction ! ” And she began 
rocking herself violently to and fro, and screwing 
her lips about in the manner which, with her, 
always denoted extreme perturbation. Then she 
glanced across the pleasant room to a lounge 
and its occupant. 

“ I hope — it will not be. that ! ” responded 
Grandmother Kinsolving, feebly. She still held 
the bomb-like telegram between her trembling 
fingers, and was as yet too much overpowered by 
the announcement it contained to have a better 
answer ready. 

“It is our own house, is it hot, mother?” 
demanded Aunt Ruth, with some asperity. 

A voice from the lounge took up the conver- 
sation. 


6 


MIXED PICKLES, 


They can’t come here ; that is all there is 
about it. If they do, I shall leave.” The 
speaker’s tone was decided and aggressive. It 
caused the eyes of the other three persons in the 
apartment to fasten themselves upon the fretful 
face above the great pillows. 

Only one of the three, however, had courage 
to reply. That one was Aunt Ruth, who should 
have been soft and yielding by nature had she 
lived up to her name. But she did not ; neither 
did the plain garb of a Friend which she wore 
appear to have its customary effect in subdu- 
ing the quick temper with which she had been 
born. 

“If thee wishes to leave, thee is at perfect 
liberty to do so. The Kinsolving homestead 
cannot open its doors to one branch of the fam- 
ily and exclude another. Thee and thy kin are 
welcome here ; so is dear Content ; so shall my 
sister Lydia’s children be.” 

With that, which was even more determined 
in tone than the invalid’s had been, Ruth Kin- 
solving ended all remark upon the telegram, and 
went away to answer it, 


MIXED PICKLES. 


7 

“ Grandmother, I shall not stay ! I — I won’t 
have everything upset by a lot of young ones ! ” 

'‘There, there, Melville! don’t worry, that’s a 
dear. You know it is so bad for you. Besides, 
I am sure that Grandmother Kinsolving will not 
really take in such a lot of children to torment 
us all with.” The old lady in the easy chair 
turned toward the one in the straight-back with 
a cajoling expression. 

But the lovely old Friend had had time to 
regain her wonted calmness, and if the tone in 
which she responded was gentle in the extreme, 
it was also equally firm. 

“ Ruth has spoken the right word, though I 
wish that she had done so more patiently. When 
Oliver built this house he built it big and roomy. 

‘ There must be space enough in it to hold all 
our household and the children which shall come 
after them,’ he said. Lydia’s flock must find a 
resting-place beneath the old roof-tree; but, if 
they are anything like their mother before them, 
they will not bring unhappiness to anybody.” 

A quiet sadness stole over the placid features 
under the snowy cap, and no one not utterly 


8 


MIXED PICKLES. 


selfish would have disturbed the mistress of the 
homestead by any further objection. 

When the feeble lad, who absorbed as his 
right so much of the family attention, again 
began his impatient protest. Grandmother Kin- 
solving rose and followed Ruth. 

Then arose ^uch a howl of distress as speedily 
drove Grandmother Capers to the verge of hys- 
terics and brought Content flying in from the 
orchard, where she had been writing a letter to 
her father. 

“O Melville! what has happened ? Are you 
worse, — suffering so terribly? Can I do any- 
thing for you ? ” 

Melville ceased shrieking and broke into a sub- 
dued roar, as ominous to his slave. Grandmother 
Capers, as it was amusing to Content. But she 
veiled the mirth in her brown eyes, and went on 
speaking in that sort of soothing fashion which 
mothers use to a fretful infant. 

Suddenly the cripple became silent, and looked 
up into his cousin’s face with an eagerness of ex- 
pression that showed how little real his grief had 
been. Say, Content, does Aunt Ruth know 


MIXED PICKLES. 


9 


that my heart is affected, and that the doctor says 
I must have perfect quiet? ” 

“ I don’t know, I ’m sure. You forget, Mel- 
ville, that I am almost a stranger to our aunt.” 

But — but she’s your aunt, you know; you 
ought to know her ! ” exclaimed the lad. 

“Maybe I ought; but then, you see, f don’t. 
I never saw her till last Thursday, as you 
know; while you have lived with her for three 
years.” 

“ And hated her all that time ! ” cried Mel- 
ville, bitterly. 

“ Nonsense ! ” laughed Content. 

“ True ! I — I wish she ’d die, or get 
married ! ” 

Even Grandmother Capers was shocked at 
this ; and spoke reproachfully to her idol. 

“You should not say that, darling. Ruth is 
a good woman. She means well, even if her 
manner is unpleasant.” 

Melville opened his lips to retort, but Content 
was too loyal to allow this. “ Why, Mrs. 
Capers ! Can you really think that ? It seems 
to me Aunt Ruth is so charming. She is so 


10 


MIXED PICKLES. 


delightfully honest and true. From the first 
time I looked in her face I felt that I should be 
safe and happy with her. And as for grandma, 
I cannot tell you how lovely she appears to me. 
Papa used to tell such wonderful stories of her 
goodness that I was almost afraid to come and 
live with her ; I was sure I should shock her a 
dozen times a day; but if I do she is too kind 
to show it.” 

“Why, Content! She thinks you are perfect. 
She held you up as an example to me yesterday, 
till I hated her almost as much as I do my aunt.” 

Into the midst of this mutual admiration talk 
broke a sound which was even more startling 
than the telegraph reading had been. 

Clitter-ty-clatter ! Yaw, whoop-la! 

Melville raised himself upon his pillows, 
Grandmother Capers screamed, and Content ran 
to the window. Outside stood a tiny dog-cart, 
drawn by a sturdy little pony, driven by a lad 
who could not have seen more than eight sum- 
mers, though his face bore freckles enough to 
have resulted from a dozen. 

Hello ! ” cried the licorice-stained mouth of 


MIXED PICKLES. 


II 


the small teamster. Is this my grandmother’s 
house? ” 

“Maybe; what is your grandmother’s name?” 
said Content. 

“I — er — I forget ! It ’s — it ’s — dang it ! 
Why ain’t Paula here ! She knows everything, 
and she ’d know what it is. You see I came on 
ahead ; me and Pretzel here. Ain’t she a stun- 
ner? Uncle Fritz give her to me — give me the 
hull turnout. Say, do you live here? Have 
you got a grandmother what’s an old Quaker 
lady, and lives in a big homestead with pigs and 
chickens and folks? Say, this is a big house, 
ain’t it? I bet a cent this is the very place! 
Won’t you just step in and ask if my grand- 
mother does live here? ’Cause I’m all tuckered 
out. This cart shook me up awful, cornin’ up 
hill.” 

The speaker paused from lack of breath, 
and Content sprang through the low window- 
sash and held out her arms to the little fellow. 

“ I ’ve no need to go and ask, for I am sure 
that you are my little cousin Fritz. Is it not 
so?” 


12 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ Yep. Anyhow, I ’m Fritz ; but who the 
mischief are you?” 

“Fm Content; Content Kinsolving; aged 
fifteen, and your Uncle Benjamin’s only child. 
But where are the rest of your party? The 
telegram said that all of Aunt Lydia’s children 
were coming.” 

Oh, they be ; when they get ready. Paula, 
— she’s a stick, — she told Uncle Fritz that she 
could not come till she had stopped to the hotel 
and freshened herself. She ’s always a freshen- 
ing herself, Paula is, but I ’m sure I don’t know 
why, for she never does a blessed thing to get 
herself messed. Octave, now — Octave, she is 
a jolly one ! she ’s always messing, but she never 
freshens. I like Octave.” 

Indeed ! most boys do like their sisters. 
But come, come quickly to dear grandmother ! 
She will be so glad to see you ! ” and Content 
slipped her arm fondly about the child’s waist, 
as he still sat in the cart. 

‘‘ How do you know? I’m a ‘ terror,’ Fritzy 
Nunky says, unless I ’m good. And the trouble 
is, I can’t stay good. I can be delightful some- 


MIXED PICKLES. 


13 


times, for little short times ; then I forget and 
cut up. I used to try not to, but I Ve given it 
up now.” 

The satisfied and aged expression which set- 
tled upon the boyish face was funny in the ex- 
treme, and Content laughed more heartily than 
she had yet done since she parted with her 
father at Osaka, in far-away Japan. 

“ I know she will ‘ like ’ you ; I do ” ; and she 
kissed again the pretty, dirty face of the young 
traveller, and lifted him out upon the grass. 

“ Where ’s the stable ? ” 

“ Around this way. Can you lead your 
horse?” 

“ I can, but I don’t want to. I ’m tired. 
Where ’s the hostler? ” 

“ There is none.” 

Little Fritz opened his big eyes. “ What ’ll we 
do then? ” 

“ I ’ll lead him around to the barn.” 

Content took hold of the bridle, but, small as 
he was, this was more than the chivalrous nature 
of little Fritz could allow. 

“ Excoose me ; but I ’m the gentleman, ” he 


14 


MIXED PICKLES. 


said, with grave dignity, and took the bridle from 
his cousin’s grasp. 

She allowed him his will, finding in him some- 
thing so lovable that he was already assured of 
one welcome in the household, no matter how 
the rest might yet regard him. 

One of the farm hands was just putting up the 
stock for the night, and to him Fritz gave the 
care of his new possession, with a matter-of-fact 
manner which surprised the farmer into accepting 
it without protest. 

“ Rub her down well, boy, and don’t drink her 
till she’s cold. That ’s what Fritzy Nunky said. 
I don’t know much about horses myself, but I 
do know that she is n’t a * him ’ like you called 
her. Content, ” laughed the tired little fellow, 
slipping his warm hand into his cousin’s cool 
clasp. 

The “boy,” who was a gray-haired father of 
many children, received the young horse owner’s 
directions in silent amazement, and looked after 
the pair as they left the barn-yard and entered 
the kitchen as if he did n’t quite know whether 
he should believe his own ears or not. Finally, 


MIXED PICKLES, 


IS 


he gave a low whistle, and ejaculated : “ Jimmin- 
etty ! ” To him it appeared as if the self-pos- 
sessed child and his dashing little turnout had 
dropped from the skies ; but somehow he felt no 
reluctance to rubbing the tiny mare down well.” 
as he had been ordered, nor did he attempt 
to “ drink her ” until she was perfectly cool 
and it was safe to let her plunge her velvet nos- 
trils into the trough of spring water at the barn- 
yard gate. 

Meanwhile, Content and the new arrival had 
entered the mansion by the kitchen, and had, 
after many pauses by the way, caused by the 
guest’s curiosity, arrived at Grandmother Kinsol- 
ving’s quiet room, where Aunt Ruth stood tying 
on her gray bonnet, preparatory to going out 
and dispatching her return message of welcome 
to the guardian of her sister Lydia’s children. 

Both mother and daughter stared at Content, 
but for a moment each supposed she had picked 
up her small companion from among the “ board- 
ers ” who frequented their mountain settlement, 
and who strolled about over the pleasant roads 
at all hours. 


i6 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Well, and whom have you brought to visit 
me now, Content?” asked grandmother, smiling 
hospitably upon the little man. 

“ Can’t thee guess. Grandma? ” 

“ Oh, she need n’t bother to guess. I ’d just 
as lief tell her. I’m your little grand-boy, I 
reckon. Anyhow, I ’m Fritzy Pickel.” 

“ Pickel ! Not Pickel — not my daughter 
Lydia’s Pickel? ” cried the dear old lady, finding 
this second shock almost too much for even her 
credulity. It had been enough to receive that 
unexpected telegram from Mr. Fritz Pickel, the 
uncle and guardian of her dead daughter’s 
family, announcing that he had, after a five 
years’ absence, returned to America, and had 
brought all his wards with him, and expected, as 
a matter of course, to leave them with their 
maternal grandmother while he went journeying 
about on a six months’ business tour. 

The telegram had not mentioned any time for 
arriving, but the Kinsolvings had taken it for 
granted that it would not be before the following 
day. 

Ho ! I suppose I am,” laughed Fritz, 


MIXED PICKLES. 


17 

junior. Fritzy Nunky says we ’re quite a jar 
full. He calls us ‘ mixed pickles/ and says he 
don’t know which he likes best, the sweet or 
the sour. I say, are you my grandmother, truly? 
’Cause you don’t look like grandmothers mostly 
does. Lotta Hartmann, she had a grandmother, 
and, my ! I would n’t ha’ kissed her for a cent. 
But I ’ll kiss you, if you like.” 

Had Grandmother Kinsolving known it, she 
was receiving the highest compliment little Fritz 
ever bestowed upon any one ; and she certainly 
did “ like,” for she opened her arms wide and 
the boy flew to them with a swift response of 
love in his generous little heart. 

So there was welcome number two, or three ; 
for the farmer at the barn may be counted upon 
as having given his in his undemonstrative way. 


CHAPTER II. 


Such a hubbub as ensued in the old home- 
stead on the top of Deer Hill mountain, when, a 
half hour later, “ Fritzy Nunky ” arrived with his 
other charges, would baffle description ; for the 
kindly German was one of those overflowing, 
effervescing mortals who go bouncing through 
the world as if their only mission were to stir 
up ” other quieter folk. But it was such a 
happy, generous stirring up that they who had 
once experienced it generally desired to have it 
again. 

He was idolized by his nieces and his small 
nephew, to whom he stood in place of the half 
remembered parents, who had perished in a 
steamship disaster the last time they had left 
Germany to visit the mother’s native land. For 
their sakes he had never married, lest his devo- 
tion to them should have to be less ; and he had 
persistently done his utmost to spoil them, so far 
as unlimited indulgence tends that way. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


19 


Only to Paula he was a trial, — Paula, the 
eldest of the brood, who had artistic and literary 
tendencies ; and who, having reached the mature 
age of sixteen, felt that she had wisdom and 
experience sufficient to sit in judgment on all 
her “ betters.” Strangely enough, “ Fritzy 
Nunky ” appeared to agree with her, and if there 
was one person of whom his sunshiny nature 
stood in awe it was of Fraulein Paula Pickel. 

On Paula’s pretty features, then, there rested 
an expression of grave disapproval during that 
supper which followed the arrival of the stranger 
grandchildren; for Uncle Fritz was so lost in 
admiration of his lovely old hostess, and so 
relieved to find The Snuggery such a delightful 
home for his darlings, that he was even more 
boisterous than ever. 

Had Grandmother Capers and her invalid 
been present, there is no knowing what might 
have happened; but as soon as the noise of 
their arrival reached Melville’s sitting-room, he 
had caused word to be sent to Grandmother 
Kinsolving that supper for himself and Mrs. ^ 
Capers must be served apart from the others. 


20 


MIXED PICKLES. 


The gentle old hostess had been rather glad of 
this than otherwise, but Aunt Ruth, Friend as 
she was, had tossed her shapely head with a 
quaint air of disdain which boded a certain piece 
of her mind to be delivered at the fitting occasion 
and in the hearing of the two Capers. 

But, and my little jar of mixed pickles ’ will 
season your quiet life finely. And it amazes 
me that you two ladies should live here in this 
great house alone, with this young Fraulein!” 
exclaimed Uncle Fritz, sweeping his eyes over 
the feminine trio, whom he supposed constituted 
the family at the The Snuggery. 

‘‘But, it is not alone, Fritzy Nunky, ” cor- 
rected Paula, severely. “ Our Aunt Ruth has 
told you twice already that a Mrs. Capers and 
our cousin Melville, her grandson, are also mem- 
bers of the family.’* 

“Ah! so? Then I beg Miss Ruth’s sweet 
pardon. Paula finds me ever a blunderer, dear 
madam, ” he concluded, looking deprecatingly 
toward the hostess’s sympathetic face. 

Grandmother Kinsolving smiled. “ Thee is a 
blunderer of the happy sort, then, Fritz. I can 


MIXED PICKLES. 


21 


understand now why my Lydia used to speak of 
her brother-in-law with such affection. ” 

“Is it so?” queried Uncle Fritz, his big blue 
eyes filling at mention of the dead woman who 
had been a true sister to him. “And, but 
we thought not of the ‘ in-law.’ Franz was 
always deep in my heart’s love, and when Lydia 
came, she nestled close beside him. Christina, 
there, is the mother made anew for us. Thou 
wilt find comfort in little Christina, ” he added 
fondly, laying his broad hand on the flaxen 
braids of his youngest niece, who blushed and 
smiled gratefully at the commendation. 

“ And what of me, Fritzy Nunky ? Am I 
not a comfort, also?” asked the tall Octave, 
demurely. 

“ Praise goes unsought, sweetheart. It never 
answers to bidding, thou witch ! Octave will 
make thee great care, Frau Kinsolving. She has 
a big heart and a head full of heedless ways. 
Octave is my brother Franz, as little Christina 
is my sister Lydia.” 

Again the grave tenderness fell upon the 
spirits of those who best remembered the dead. 


22 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Content felt herself almost an alien, since all were 
strangers to her save the grandmother and aunt 
whom she had known but three short days. A 
moment’s longing for her own absent father who 
was the one son of the house stole over her, and 
she turned her eyes westward through the open 
window, as if looking toward him brought her 
nearer to the missionary in far-away Japan. 

But there was no division in Amy Kinsolving’s 
heart, and the lonesome look of her little Content 
touched her heart, as she leaned forward to lay 
her hand kindly upon the girl’s slender one. “ A 
strange reunion, Fritz; a strange ruling of Provi- 
dence that all my children’s children should have 
been brought to the old nest at one and the same 
time. Benjamin has sent us his motherless Con- 
tent, that we may rear her to good and house- 
wifely ways ; Harriet’s poor crippled lad and his 
paternal grandmother have dwelt with us these 
three years ; and now thee comes bringing a 
whole — ” 

“Jar of mixed pickles! ” interrupted Octave, 
with no intention of disrespect, but in the heed- 
lessness which was her characteristic. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


23 

Octave ! ” cried Paula ; apologize to grand- 
mother ! ” 

“Apologize yourself!” retorted Octave, 
pertly; then blushed furiously, remembering to 
whom she had been discourteous. “ I do apolo- 
gize, dear, sweet little grandma. Not for Paula’s 
tongue, though, but because I would n’t do a 
shabby thing to you if I could help it. But I 
never shall do any better; I’m born to be 
horrid,” she concluded with such complacent 
serenity that Content laughed. 

“What you laughing at?” demanded Fritz, 
junior, stopping his noisy consumption of a third 
bowl of milk. “ I like to know all the fun.” 

“ I ’m afraid you would not understand this ; 
but I was not laughing at any one,” returned 
Content, flushing a bit at her lack of self-control. 

“But you can tell, can’t you? You’ve got a 
tongue.” 

“Well, then, it struck me as very funny that 
Octave and your own small self have already 
decided that there is no use in trying to improve 
yourselves, and are so perfectly satisfied that it 
should be so.” 


24 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Fritzy’s puzzled little face, after this long 
explanation, showed that he had not compre- 
hended it as well as he expected; but a swift, 
keen glance from Octave’s dark eyes intercepted 
one from Content, and a bond of interest was 
instantly formed between these two stranger 
cousins whose training had been so different. 

Fritz slipped down from his chair, when he had 
at length filled himself to the utmost capacity 
with his Aunt Ruth’s good things, and sauntered 
carelessly out of the room. No one thought to 
forbid his exploring any part of the house which 
attracted his curiosity, and Aunt Ruth disdained, 
while Grandmother Amy forgot, Melville’s fret- 
ful request that he should not be disturbed by 
any family visits that night. 

Melville Capers was accustomed to consider 
his word as law, and for the sake of peace it 
generally was such. His anger and astonish- 
ment then was great when, as he had just 
composed himself for a nap, the door of his 
sitting-room opened, and a small person in dusty 
knickerbockers walked coolly in. 

The fourteen-year-old boy on the sofa had a 


MIXED PICKLES. 


25 


voice suited to a man, or at least to a youth of 
much stronger physical development than its 
owner’s, and when this voice demanded in its 
fiercest tones, “Why are you intruding here?” 
it surprised, if it did not intimidate, the visitor. 

Now old Oliver Kinsolving had been, accord- 
ing to his neighbors’ dictum, “ a man of a great 
substance” ; which meant not so much substance 
of money, though he was rich enough, but rather 
substance of character, will power, honesty, and 
kindliness. It was curious to note how each of 
his descendants possessed at least one factor 
of their grandsire’s “ substance,” to wit, his 
will; and little Fritz, though he was the small- 
est of the flock, was yet to demonstrate that he 
inherited not the smallest share of this same 
quality. 

The child had said to himself, as he left the 
dining-room, that he would see every nook and 
cranny of the big, new home before he went to 
sleep that night. He was not, therefore, to be 
balked of his project simply because a big boy on 
a lounge roared at him. His momentary hesita- 
tion vanished, and his retort came so promptly 


26 


MIXED PICKLES, 


that no hesitation had really been perceived by 
the questioner. 

I ain’t intruding ; I ’m ’specting of my grand- 
mother’s house. I should like to know who you 
are, any how.” 

“ I ’ll teach you who I am if you don’t get 
out of here pretty sudden ! ” 

“Pooh! Who’s afraid?” demanded Fritz, 
coolly and impudently. 

“You. Five seconds, now I Then get! ” 

“ Get yourself! ” 

“ I will, — cripple as I am, — if you don’t 
leave here instanter ! ” 

“Cripple? That’s a boy without feet or 
hands. I seed one once at the Museum in 
Munich. My ! but he was n’t like you. He had 
a voice. Cracky ! how that crippler did sing ! 
You cripple, can you sing, too, as well as 
holler?” 

“ Clear out, I tell you ! You infernal little 
imp ! ” 

“Ain’t a imp. Imps goes down traps and 
holes in theatres. I ’ve seen ’em. Ginger ! ain’t 
you a cross-looking boy? ” 


MIXED PICKLES, 


27 


The child had come fearlessly forward, and was 
bestowing upon the invalid a critical scrutiny, 
which naturally made its sensitive recipient writhe. 

Clear out, quick ! or I ’ll throw this book at 
your head ! ” 

You dassent ! ” 

For answer the volume of Dickens with which 
Melville had been passing away his tedious after- 
noon, whizzed past the intruder’s curly pate. 

In an instant all his fiery temper had roused. 
The child was used only to kindness and indul- 
gence ; his few “ fights ” had been with poor 
children on the city street in that distant home 
in Germany, and he had never attempted one 
with “ an equal.” His little chest swelled, his 
head tossed back, his voice took on a new tone. 

You coward, you ! If I had Fritzy Nunky’s 
Winchester here, I ’d blow your head right square 
off you ! You — you — mean thing ! ” 

Will you go? ” 

‘‘ No ! ” 

“ What will you do ? ” 

“ Come and pound you ! That is, if you can’t 
get off your old lounge ! ” 


28 


MIXED PICKLES, 


‘‘ Come on ! ” sneered Melville, little dreaming 
that his menace would be accepted. 

But it was ; and in another second the round, 
dirty fists of little Fritz were beating and punch- 
ing the face and sides of the really helpless 
invalid. Melville defended himself as best he 
could, and cried aloud for his grandmother. 
But that unsuspecting woman was taking her 
evening constitutional at a good distance from 
the house, and did not hear him. 

As he saw his adversary evidently weakening 
the belligerent Fritz felt his courage grow apace, 
and he became quite carried away with his own 
prowess. 

But after a considerable interval, he realized 
that his blows were no longer parried, and that 
Melville’s claw-like hands lay supinely on the 
robe which half covered him. 

“ Humph ! Thought I could n’t lick you, 
didn’t you? And I showed you diffrunt ! 
Humph ! Got enough, have n’t you ? ” And with 
immeasurable contempt Fritz stepped back and 
regarded the motionless figure upon the lounge. 
He stood thus for a long, long time ; then sud- 


MIXED PICKLES. 


20 


denly the memory of a story his uncle had told 
him of a boy who killed his brother in a “ fight ” 
rushed into his mind. 

Had he killed this boy of the roaring voice? 
A quick little sob escaped his babyish lips, and 
in an awful terror he turned and fled. 

They were just rising from their long, after 
table talk when the door of the supper-room 
opened furiously, and a small boy with a very 
white face appeared on its threshold. The big, 
staring eyes and the quivering lips did not seem 
to belong to their little Fritz, and every one 
paused in expectation, as he cried in his terrified 
treble : “ There ’s a homely, great boy on a 
lounge, and I Ve just killed him ! ” 


30 


MIXED PICKLES, 


CHAPTER III. 

“ Fritz ! Fritzy Pickel ! What is that you 
say?” demanded Uncle Fritz, who of all the 
astonished company was the first to recover his 
speech. 

He’s dead ! Dead as Otto Skaats ! ” wailed 
the terrified child. “ I fit him and beat him ; 
but I did n’t — I did n’t mean to do it so hard ! ” 

“ Otto Skaats ” had been the unlucky hero of 
Uncle Fritz’s doleful tale. 

‘‘Come to me, nephew! ” ordered Uncle Fritz 
sternly, and the little boy sorrowfully obeyed. 

“Now tell Fritzy Nunky every single thing.” 
Mr. Pickel sat down upon the sofa and took his 
favorite into the safe shelter of his arms. Sym- 
pathy, he knew, was the shortest road to confi- 
dence. 

“ I went to see the house, and I found a boy. 
He was big and crosser than anything. He 
could n’t be my truly cousin, Fritzy Nunky, 
’cause he was n’t a gentleman. He ordered me 


MIXED PICKLES. 


3T 

Out of his place like he owned the hull concern ; 
and he dasted me to fight. I wanted to lick 
him, and I did j but I did n’t ’spect to kill 
him.” 

At the recollection of Melville’s white face, the 
young pugilist hid his own on Uncle Fritz’s broad 
shoulder and began sobbing as if his heart were 
broken. 

Fortunately, at that moment Aunt Ruth re- 
entered the room. She had waited to hear but 
the first words of the little lad’s self-accusation, 
and had then flown swiftly to Melville’s side. 
For an instant she had gazed upon the inert 
figure, horrified, and actually believing that the 
tale was true. Another instant, and she resisted 
the thought as something too terrible to have 
really come into such quiet lives as theirs. She 
found the death-like stupor only a faint after all ; 
and her heart gave a great throb of thankfulness. 
She had never loved, and was far too honest to 
pretend affection for, her elder nephew; but in 
that moment she realized the truth of the old 
saying that “ blood is thicker than water.” She 
had not loved him simply because he was not 


32 


MIXED PICKLES. 


lovable; but a hope arose within her that he 
might yet become so. 

“ I Ve been too severe with him, no doubt,” 
said truthful Ruth to herself ; “ and I Ve had too 
great contempt for his supreme selfishness. But 
who knows? Maybe in his place I should have 
been a deal more disagreeeble — if that were 
possible ! ” 

This soliloquy had not hindered the work of 
her capable hands, and very speedily she had 
the satisfaction of seeing the invalid revive. 
When he recovered so far as to answer her ques- 
tion, he replied, that ‘ he was all right, only his 
head felt queer.’ ‘‘ I don’t remember what 
happened to me. Oh, yes, I do too ! Where 
is that little imp ? ” 

“ Humph ! thee ’ll live ! ” replied Aunt Ruth. 

*‘Live? Why shouldn’t I?” demanded Mel- 
ville. 

“ Thee has just had a pretty serious thrashing, 
and, I fancy, the first one of thy experience. 
Little Fritz must have hit thy temple, for I see it 
is discolored. The blow in that particular place 
was what made thee faint, I suppose.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 33 

Now will you insist ‘ upon keeping him 
here? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ A boy as dangerous as that? ” 

“ Melville Capers, I am ashamed of thee ! 
Even if thee is an invalid it is no reason why 
thee should be a coward ! It does not seem as 
if there could be one drop of Kinsolving blood 
in thy veins.” 

Melville was still weak, and he was too utterly 
astonished at his aunt’s indignation to reply. 
He lay staring at her until a well-known step was 
heard in the passage and Grandmother Capers 
came into the room. Then ensued the custom- 
ary roar with which the cripple expressed his 
disapprobation of things in general and of this 
latest grievance in especial. 

“ Boohoo ! Row row-wow-ow ! ” No written 
word can convey the sound; it made quick- 
tempered Ruth think of nothing but an angry 
calf, and the pity which had sprung up in her 
heart gave way to disgust. 

So it was with a very contemptuous expres- 
sion on her fair face that she re-entered the 


34 


MIXED PICKLES. 


supper-room, where Grandmother Kinsolving sat 
trembling, and herself on the verge of fainting, 
while the younger ones had grouped themselves 
about Uncle Fritz and his sobbing burden. 

“Well?” asked that gentleman, eagerly, 
though already relieved by Ruth’s manner. 

“ Perfectly well ! Or, rather, perfectly safe. 
Doubtless Melville does feel a bit the worst for 
being knocked senseless, but he is sufficiently 
himself again, I think ! ” 

She said this with the funniest little emphasis 
on the “ I, ” and the young Pickels’ curiosity 
was whetted. The more, indeed, that this odd 
new aunt of theirs at that instant held up her 
hand to make them listen. The wailing and 
roaring penetrated even to that remote apart- 
ment, and caused Grandmother Kinsolving’s 
sweet face to flush. 

“ Ruth, thee should not ! Remember the lad 
is thy own nephew. He is frail, and not to be 
judged by common rules.” 

“ And, because he is of our own blood, — 
which I find it hard to believe, — I want all these 
new children of ours to understand him at the 


MIXED PICKLES. 


35 


outset. Thee is always fond of having things 
‘ start right/ and I have caught thy habit.” 
The tender look in the daughter’s eyes corrected 
any possible rudeness in her speech; and, seri- 
ously she was in earnest about having the new 
family “ start right.” 

For three years Melville had been a terrible 
trial to her ; the worse because she saw only too 
plainly that his suffering, which was real enough 
at times, and his wretched disposition, were 
wearing her mother’s strength away. Ruth Kin- 
solving felt, and rightly, that one such life as 
Amy Kinsolving’s was worth more to the world 
than dozens like Melville’s ; and she hoped from 
this inrush of young life* that household matters 
might be straightened out. 

When Content came to them, it had been after 
long objection on her aunt’s part; which, how- 
ever, the girl herself did not know. But when 
Benjamin wrote about his “ only, motherless 
child,” Ruth’s retrousse nose had tilted itself a 
little higher, and her firm mouth had closed a 
little more firmly. For her part, she had had 
quite enough of “ only children,” no matter how 


36 MIXED PICKLES. 

close their kinship, nor how orphaned their 
state. 

Grandmother Amy had said very little, and 
had said that little gently ; but, meek as she was, 
she was also wise ; and much as she leaned upon 
her capable daughter, she had never let go the 
reins of , management from her own fragile hand. 

“Thee will do thy duty, Ruth, as thee has 
been trained to do. Benjamin and Benjamin’s 
belongings have as much right in The Snug- 
gery as thee has. If there were a dozen children 
and he wished me to receive them, I should bid 
him send them. Since there is only one, and 
that a girl, I look to thee to be her second 
mother.” 

Ruth reserved her own opinion about the 
mothering part, but she obediently wrote the 
letter of welcome ; and was glad to her heart’s 
core when its living answer looked up into her 
eyes with a gaze as fearless and honest as her 
own and with far more of sweetness. 

Having been so agreeably disappointed in 
Content, she was prepared to welcome the little 
Pickels with greater cordiality ; and she formed 


MIXED PICKLES. 


37 


a project, then and there, that the family should 
make one united effort to reconstruct poor Mel- 
ville, and make him a credit to them. 

So, taking little Fritz from his uncle’s arms, 
she led the party into the south room, where 
through the open windows the moonlight fell as 
she fancied it could fall only on Deer Hill, and 
there she told them Melville’s short and painful 
history. 

Ellison Capers had brought distress upon the 
family hearth from the first time his shadow 
rested there. She entered into few details, think- 
ing it unwise that listeners so youthful should 
yet learn them ; but she showed them that her 
sister Harriet had died none too soon to hide 
her broken heart, and that through the curse of 
his own father’s dissipation had come poor Mel- 
ville’s ruined, crippled life. Whether he had 
fallen or been thrown from his father’s arms, when 
that father was intoxicated, they never knew; 
but they did know that from that fall dated all 
the son’s suffering. There was something wrong 
with the spine, but a trouble which as yet no 
physician had ever been able to set right. 


38 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Unconsciously to herself, as she talked, Aunt 
Ruth’s voice took on a tone of soft and womanly 
pity, and it did not seem to those who listened 
as if she could ever have spoken of her nephew 
so contemptuously as they had heard her speak 
a little while before. 

“Well, this other ‘Grandmother Capers?’ 
Cannot she do anything to make him bear his 
trouble better?” asked Uncle Fritz. 

“ If she can, she does not. Ellison was her 
only son, and of course our invalid is her only 
grandchild. Her idea of love appears to be 
unlimited indulgence — ” 

Here poor “ Fritzy Nunky ” began to glance 
about uneasily, but Ruth’s next words showed 
him that nothing personal had been intended. 

“ Oh ! I was n’t thinking of thee, sir. I fancy 
that thee can say no — once in a way, if need be. 
But Mrs. Capers cannot. She is, unfortunately, 
very wealthy, and she has let Melville know that 
all she has will one day be his. That he may 
not live to inherit appears never to occur to 
either of them. The boy is utterly spoiled ; and 
if he were any older I should give him up as 


MIXED PICKLES. 


39 


hopeless. But he is only fourteen, and very 
clever-witted, — though it might not seem prob- 
able to those who hear him bray so ! ” 

A renewed sound of woe or wrath warned 
them that Grandmother Capers was in for a 
tussle with her charge. 

‘‘Ruth! Ruth!” 

“ The noise is certainly like that Don makes, 
mother.” 

“Who’s Don?” asked Fritzy, suddenly sitting 
up straight. 

“ He ’s a donkey.” 

“ Does he live here, too? ” 

“ Yes. He is very old. Thy dear mother and 
I used to ride him once upon a time.” 

“ I may ride him, may n’t I ? ” 

“ If he is willing.” 

“ How can he tell? Does he talk? ” 

“ He has a very expressive way of making 
people understand his likes and dislikes. Thee 
shall try him to-morrow. Thee can hardly keep 
thy eyes open now, and we will go up to see how 
fresh and sweet grandmother’s sheets do smell.” 

Fritz, junior, immediately climbed down, and 


40 


MIXED PICKLES. 


slipped his hand within his aunt’s. It was evi- 
dent that they two would speedily understand 
each other. And Ruth’s quick feeling was deeply 
touched, when, as the sleepy little fellow knelt 
down to say his “ good-night word to God,” he 
begged that trusted Father to ‘ forgive him for 
killing the crippler ’ ; “ no, for not killing him ” — 
he went on ; “ oh ! I don’t know what I mean ; but 
God does every time, Fritzy Nunky says.” 

But the unwise if earnest woman had inaugu- 
rated a work the magnitude of which was doomed 
to make even her valiant spirit quake. She re- 
turned to the south room to find all its young 
occupants deep in the discussion of Melville’s 
reformation ; and each with a different and dis- 
tinct plan for its accomplishment. 

Grandmother had gone to sit with her invalid, 
and Uncle Fritz was resting on the sofa. None 
of the earnest talkers heeded her entrance, or 
were conscious of it ; but when she had quietly 
listened to the varying projects, and the unmis- 
takable quality of the family “ substance ” with 
which each was advocated, her courage failed. 

“ I ’ll fight him out on his own line ! ” declared 


MIXED PICKLES, 


41 


the tomboy Octave ; “ I ’ll teach him that he 

has got to be a man and not a baby ! ” 

“No,” said Paula, with scorn; “Nothing can 
be done by being unladylike. I am going to 
treat him as if we were grown-up folks. A gen- 
tleman should be ashamed to cry like a child. 
I ’ll teach him German.” 

“ I ’ll — I don’t know what I can do, ” said 
Christina; “but I’ll do something! He shall 
not worry my sweet, new grandmother ! ” 

“ Oh, there must be unity, my dears,” said 
Aunt Ruth, joining in the talk. 

“And ‘ Fritzy Nunky,’ as you call him, hasn’t 
said his word yet,” added Content. “ Suppose 
we try and find out what he would suggest.” 

“ Going to bed ! ” retorted the guardian of 
many Pickels. 

“ Oh, but Nunky I How would you, if you 
were going to be here, how would you reform 
the horrid fellow?” demanded Octave, impe- 
riously. 

“I? Well, I should just try loving him.” 
And with that wisest project of all, the conclave 
broke up. 


CHAPTER IV. 


“ I HAVE stirred up a hornet’s nest, mother.” 

“Ruth! Where?” 

“ Only a mental one, dear. Thee must not 
take me too literally. But I unwisely asked 
Lydia’s children to help me in trying to improve 
Melville, and they responded only top briskly.” 

Then the daughter related what she had over- 
heard in the south room. 

“And Fritz was the only one in the right of 
it,” was Grandmother Kinsolving’s brief com- 
ment. 

“ How can one love what is not lovable? I 
have been trying three years, and thee knows I 
have not succeeded over well,” answered Ruth, 
soberly. 

“ I think thee has tried less to love than to 
make, daughter. Just thee leave off the making 
part, and follow PTitz Pickel’s good advice. Then 


MIXED PICKLES. 43 

thee will be the example to the children that thee 
should be.” 

“ There is another way out of it, mother dear. 
Margaret Capers and Melville are always threat- 
ening to ‘ leave,’ when things do not move just 
to their notion. Now we have a good reason for 
letting them keep their word. The peace which 
would follow their going would be balm to my 
soul, and marrow to your bones. Mother Amy.” 

The old lady did not notice the remark, but 
went on putting away her gray silken gown as 
carefully as if it were not to be taken out and 
worn again on the morrow. Then she folded her 
snowy kerchief and placed it in its own appro- 
priate drawer of the old-fashioned chiffonier, 
smoothing out every wrinkle with a lingering 
daintiness of touch that seemed a sort of cere- 
mony to the less careful Ruth, who enjoyed 
nothing better than to watch her mother dressing 
and undressing. 

“There would be a vanhy in all that fussiness, 
if it were any one but thee who was guilty of it. 
Mother Amy, ” said the younger, busier woman, 
fondly. 


44 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ If thee would spend more time over thy 
clothes and less over the household cares, thee 
would not get so weary, Ruth.” 

“ Why, mother ! I never told thee I was 
weary ! ” 

“ The tone of thy voice tells it, dear. I know 
that this opening our doors to so many new cares 
will fall heaviest on thee, my child. Thee must 
watch thyself, betimes, and be beforehand with 
love. That will oil the wheels and make them 
move noiselessly. One thing I foresee gladly. 
Thee will find enough in little Fritz to make up 
to thee for all thy labor for him. Yet he is a 
child born to mischief. And I think thee will 
have less time to worry over Melville, now this 
other nephew has come.” 

“Yes, I do love him already. Who could 
help it? He seems a typical boy, — healthy, 
hearty, and roguish, but warm-hearted and chiv- 
alrous as well. T’ll put up with Paula for the 
sake of Fritzy. Bless the little man ! I should 
like to spank Paula. What a contrast to Con- 
tent ! ” 

“ They will do each other good.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


45 


“But, mother, what about the Capers? If 
they wish to go, had we not better let them? 
Thee knows it is not for the need of their board 
money we keep them; and now these other 
natural claims are made upon thee, thee can say 
we want the three extra rooms, as indeed we do. 
I was ashamed to put Fritz Pickel into such a 
pigeonhole as the little room under the stairs, 
and it was all there was left to offer him.” 

“ Fritz Pickel will do very well if he has always 
such a comfortable and cleanly bed to rest him 
on ; and it is not he who is troubled, but thy own 
housewifely heart. Go now to sleep, my child. 
On thee will fall the burden of the day, and thee 
must rest. All that the past day has brought to 
our door, that will we keep ; and because of the 
new bringing we will not discard the old.” 

So dismissed, and understanding perfectly that 
her mother’s determination was final, Ruth Kin- 
solving went to her own chamber to lie awake 
and borrow anxiety, as was her nature. 

Meanwhile, the victim of that evening’s dis- 
cussion tossed fretfully on his own luxurious bed 
— by far the most comfortable one the every- 


46 


MIXED PICKLES. 


where comfortably furnished house afforded. 
He knew nothing, of course, of the eager plans 
for his reformation which his cousins, the 
intruders, ” had laid ; but he was perfectly 
capable of forming plans on his own side, not 
indeed for the reformation of the enemy but for 
its utter extirpation. 

“They are enemies, the whole posse of them. 
The little imp is but a sample of the lot. Of 
that I am positive. But if they think they are 
going to bully me, just because I am a sick boy, 
they ’ll find themselves mightily mistaken. If I 
can’t fight with my fists I can with my brain, and 
I will make that whole batch of Pickels sorry 
they ever heard of The Snuggery. I will so ! ” 

“What is it? What did you say, darling?” 
asked Grandmother Capers, who entered from 
her own apartment in swift anxiety. She boasted 
that she always slept with one eye open, and 
Melville, at least, believed her. Wake when and 
how he would, her quick ear caught the differ- 
ence in his breathing, and she was at his side, 
attentive and submissive. 

Grandmother Capers was considered a “ world- 


MIXED PICKLES. 


47 


ly old woman,” by those who felt themselves 
competent to judge ; and, indeed, she was a 
great contrast to Grandmother Kinsolving, as 
well in her speech and faith as in her personal 
appearance. But whatever might be her mental 
or moral weaknesses, in one thing she was strong ; 
and that was in her supreme, untiring devotion 
to her grandson. It seemed to Amy Kinsolving 
as if Ellison’s mother was seeking, by the conse- 
cration of her every faculty to Ellison’s child, to 
make up to him for the terrible injury he had 
suffered at his parent’s hands. If the devotion 
wearied Melville, he was still so accustomed to it 
that he would scarcely have known how to exist 
without it. 

But he resented it as if it had been an insult. 

“ I do wish that I could ever move without 
your eternal asking: 'What is it, darling?’ I 
hate the sound of your voice ! ” 

Mrs. Caper’s dark eyes filled with tears, and 
the pretty pink color on her round, old cheek 
deepened ; but Melville could not see this, and, if 
he had been able, he would not have cared. 

" I ’m sorry I disturbed you, dear ; but it is 


48 


MIXED PICKLES. 


better that than that you should need me and I 
not be at hand.” 

The old lady’s tone was apologetic and hum- 
ble — a tone which, whenever Ruth Kinsolving 
heard it, made her blood boil. That anyone 
of her race should force such a tone into the 
voice of an aged woman was one of the many 
hard things she had to endure on account of her 
elder nephew. 

“Well, see that you don’t do it again, then! 
And go to bed, can’t you? I wish you’d shut 
the door between. If I could walk a step, I ’d 
soon find a way to keep you out ! ” 

“ There, there, sweetheart, don’t you worry I 
You know it is so bad for you. If you want 
me, don’t fail to call.” 

There was little fear that this would ever hap- 
pen, but it was a tender injunction which Grand- 
mother Capers never failed to give. 

She returned to her own bed, and fell into 
another “ cat nap,” from which she was roused 
again, after a brief interval, by hearing Melville 
breathing deeply and in a manner to startle any- 
body even less doting than she. Quietly as a 


Mixed pickles. 


4 ^ 


mouse, fearing further rebuff, the old lady crept 
forward until she could peer through the door- 
way. 

Melville was not asleep. He was sitting as 
nearly upright in bed as he was able to do, and 
his eyes were fixed upon the open window, and 
the moonlight which he loved, and which, though 
against his faithful nurse’s judgment, he insisted 
should never be shut out by curtains. 

The moonlight? Something far whiter and 
brighter than that. Something which moved up 
and down, up and down, slowly and monoto- 
nously. 

Grandmother Capers’s eyes followed her grand- 
son’s, and for the first time in her life she became 
oblivious to his existence. 

Even in modern America there are some 
houses old enough to have ghostly traditions, 
and The Snuggery was one of these. On certain 
nights of the midsummer, when the moon was 
at its full, “ spirits were seen to walk,” through 
the box-bordered garden-paths; and to sway 
rythmically, like folks in “ meeting,” above the 
shaven lawn. These old tales had always been 


50 


MIXED PICKLES. 


recounted, but it was not until within the last 
five years, and since the ocean shipwreck which 
had brought such heart shipwreck to the old 
homestead, that some voices whispered know- 
ingly how one of these wandering spirits was 
that of the drowned daughter of the house. 

What more fitting, then, than that, on the very 
first night of their arrival here, the ghost of the 
children’s mother should revisit the home of her 
childhood and now of theirs? 

Grandmother Capers did not for one instant 
question the evidence of her senses. She was 
credulous by nature, and somewhat ignorant, 
despite her many years, and she remained spell- 
bound where she had paused. 

Up and down, up and down, the tall slim 
creature of the upper air moved, as if blown 
about by the wind. Grandmother did not have 
on her spectacles, but she was moderately sharp 
of vision still ; and she was sure that the ghost 
had long blonde hair and blue eyes. So had 
Lydia Kinsolving, in the days of her youth. 

Then the watcher became conscious that it 
was not an aimless tossing of ethereal substance 


MIXED PICKLES. 


51 


that made the light wind’s sport; there was 
motion, and method in the motion, which seemed 
strangely familiar to Margaret Capers. Oddly 
enough, the days of her own youth and belleship 
recurred to her ; days in which she had danced 
in stately waltzes as unlike the modern ones as 
grace is unlike awkwardness. 

She forgot to be afraid, remembering so dis- 
tinctly. She forgot that it was said to presage 
evil if one unwittingly paused to watch a 
“ spirit.” She forgot everything but the waltz 
movement which had once been dearer to her 
giddy soul than food to her healthy body. She 
leaned forward, entranced; but when, presently, 
the ghostly dancer began to sing, in time to her 
own motion, the very words of a love-song Mar- 
garet Capers had often sung, the fascinated 
observer aroused with a start. 

It was her warning ! She knew it, recognized 
it ! She uttered a terrified shriek, so piercing 
that it silenced Melville from responding, and 
brought Aunt Ruth flying, like another ghost, in 
her long nightgown to the invalid’s room. 

But when she beheld Grandmother Capers 


52 


MIXED PICKLES. 


gazing distraught and horror-stricken through 
the open window, her glance followed swiftly 
after. 

And with her own bodily eyes, in a sickening 
fear utterly new to her, Ruth Kinsolving looked 
upon what she actually believed to be her own 
sister’s wraith. 


CHAPTER V. 


That is, for one brief, ridiculous moment she 
so believed. Then, with a blush at her own 
credulity. Aunt Ruth speedily hurried out of 
doors and laid her energetic mortal hand upon 
the specter’s shoulder. 

“ Paula ! Paula Pickel ! What in the name of 
common-sense is thee doing? ” 

But, as it was something rather in the nature 
of uncommon sense, Paula did not immediately 
answer. 

A second, more vigorous shake awoke the 
young somnambulist, though to a dazed and un- 
satisfactory condition which was as puzzling to 
Aunt Ruth as the whole episode was. But 
the girl gradually came to herself, and her first 
exclamation cleared the ghostly mystery. 

** Dear me ! Have I been walking in my sleep 
again ? ” 


54 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ I should say thee had, ” retorted the aunt, 
feeling very decidedly provoked at having so 
many people disturbed. “ Thee has frightened 
Grandmother Capers half to death with thy un- 
canny dancing. Come now, at once, and show 
her who and what thee is. Then, maybe, the old 
lady can get a bit of rest. Between thee and 
Melville it will be little enough at the most.” 

Paula resented her aunt’s tone and manner: 
she acknowledged no authority except her own 
will, and, occasionally, that of her Uncle Fritz. 

‘‘You have no right to speak like that to me — 
none whatever. Besides, I am not going to meet 
a stranger in this dishabille. I am sorry that I 
walked in my sleep, but I am not to blame for 
it.” 

The young girl drew herself stiffly away from 
the firm touch which still held her shoulder, and 
with an air of offended dignity started to re-enter 
the house. 

Ruth released her clasp, suffering Paula to fol- 
low her own inclination ; but a keen perception 
of the ludicrous was so thoroughly awakened that 
the aunt could not restrain a hearty laugh. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


55 


Truth was, Ruth Kinsolving was little more than 
a girl, herself; a wholesome-natured if high- 
spirited one, and, as mother Amy too well knew, 
but ill fitted to rule over a houseful of young 
folks, like these whom Providence had brought 
to her door. Doubtless, being blessed with 
excellent sense, she would find a way for herself 
out of the puzzle ; and a way which would retain 
her own self-respect while still commanding 
theirs. But as yet she had not even thought 
about this way, nor of anything but the immedi- 
ate needs of her great family. 

Paula turned, in a fury; forgetting instantly 
her determination to show these American rela- 
tives what a great lady she was, and becoming 
the actual reality, — a very quickly offended, 
untrained girl. 

“ I do not see occasion for laughter in my 
misfortune. Aunt Ruth; and I wish that Uncle 
Fritz had never brought us here. You may as 
well learn in the beginning that I never wished 
to come and that I shall go away as soon as 
possible.” 


56 


MIXED PICKLES. 


A sharp retort formed itself in Ruth Kinsol- 
ving’s mind, but rested there unspoken. 

“ I was not laughing at thee, dear little Paula, 
but at the absurdity of thy attempted dignity, 
clad just as thee is. It is high time we were 
both in doors, and thinking less about ourselves 
and more about our neighbors. Come.” 

Aunt Ruth slipped her arm, covered only by 
its cambric sleeve, about the waist of her niece, 
and would have guided her affectionally back to 
her chamber. 

But Paula would not. She had been a trifle 
touched by the soft tone in which this new aunt 
had said ‘‘ dear little Paula,” but she was slower 
to forget resentment than to feel it. So she 
hurried forward alone, and made her way to the 
room where Christina was sleeping, in the re- 
freshing rest which follows a simple supper and 
bedtime thoughts of sweet good-will. 

Ruth went to Grandmother Capers, and found 
the old lady greatly shaken by the shock she had 
received. Surprising as it was, ‘Margaret Capers 
persistently refused to accept Ruth’s plain and 
natural explanation of the affair, and reiterated 


MIXED PICKLES, 


57 


her belief that she had really seen a spirit, whose 
visitation was intended as a warning of direful 
things to come. 

From his room adjoining, Melville heard the 
discussion and terminated it in his own fashion : 

Go to bed, grandma, and keep still ! If, at your 
age, you want to be a fool, be one, and not 
bother other folks about it ! As for you. Aunt 
Ruth, I wish you would get me a drink of fresh 
water out of the well, and take yourself off out of 
the way. I hate this night rowing ! If you don’t 
get back to that side of the house pretty soon, 
some of the rest of your imps will be breaking 
loose ! I ’ll make grandmother get out of this ! ” 

“ Thee will, in a sense thee little understands, 
ungrateful boy ! ” replied his long-suffering aunt, 
after she had drawn and brought the water. 
“ And I will ask thy permission to give thee a 
bedtime thought. If there are any ‘ imps ’ 
under this roof this night, they are locked up in 
thy own selfish heart. If thee is really a Kin- 
solving, see to it that thee treats that poor old 
woman in yonder with common decency. One 
of these nights thee will order her and she will 


58 


MIXED PICKLES. 


not obey.” And with that for a good-night, the 
much tried young house-mistress took herself off. 

Melville was sufficiently nervous to find sleep 
impossible for weary hours to come ; and it is 
probable that the self-indulgent lad had never 
done a greater amount of thinking in a like space 
of time. 

“ Aunt Ruth has a way of saying things which 
cut; but they generally cut in the right place 
when she says them to other people ! Did she 
mean it? Am I an ‘ imp,’ myself ? I suppose 
I don’t speak very respectfully to grandma, 
sometimes ; but she is such a silly thing that she 
tries me awfully. And everybody knows I am 
an incurable invalid. It’s a pity I can’t talk as 
I please, when I am doomed to lie here like a 
log ! I ’d be a saint if I had that little imp 
Fritz’s legs and fists ! How he did use them, 
though ! And I could n’t but admire the young 
monkey, in spite of my anger, he did so make 
me think of one of Abraham’s bantam roosters. 
Well, maybe some of the Pickels will be relish- 
able ; and if they are, I ’ll try not to scare them 
away by crossness.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


59 


From which soliloquy of Melville’s it will be 
seen that while the would-be reformers had all 
gone to bed in the truly missionary spirit, the 
sinner to be reconstructed was doing his own best 
to make his stubborn clay pliable to their touch. 
Also, that his threat of “ getting out of this ” was 
a threat merely, and not to be taken seriously. 


CHAPTER VI. 


Fritz, junior, slept soundly ; but he had a child’s 
fashion of waking early. When he found the 
sunlight shining into his eyes through the window 
which, being unaccustomed to care for young 
folks. Aunt Ruth had forgotten to darken, — and 
thus insure her own undisturbed morning nap, — 
he sat up in bed and looked about him. He was 
perfectly wide awake on the instant, and the 
cheerfulness of the sunlight was scarcely greater 
than the clear light of the lad’s own happy nature. 

“ I was a dreadful bad boy, last night ! I ’m 
awful sorry I licked the crippler and — by jingo ! 
I ’ll go and tell him so ! ” 

Paula had labored long and seriously with her 
little brother; but he didn’t take polishing well 
at all — that is, of the sort which his elder sister 
was minded to give him. It made not the slight- 
est impression on this small man to be forbidden 
a dozen times a day to use the language which 
came naturally to his lips, and which from his 


MIXED PICKLES. 


6i 


association with the boys of the street he had 
come to consider smart. 

More than this, Uncle Fritz was always in- 
clined to concur in Fritz, junior’s, own opinion. 
But, for the matter of that, pretty nearly every- 
thing the little lad did was smart ” in the eyes 
of his adoring uncle, who firmly believed that his 
namesake was an epitome of every human grace 
and virtue. He would not have had the child 
different for half his fortune ; and it was well for 
the little fellow that he had the wholesomest and 
sweetest of natures, and that he had sprung from 
a race of gentlefolk. 

But there was a polishing he did take, readily. 
If by any chance — alas ! they were frequent — 
he had inadvertently really pained any living 
heart, he could not rest till he had done his 
childish utmost to banish that pain. Once, on 
one never-to-be-forgotten, dreadful day, he had 
told Fritzy Nunky a lie ! “ Story” does not ex- 

press it ; fib is too mild ; falsehood or untruth 
indicate a premeditation which was absent from 
the offence ; so, though it is an ugly word, never 
to be carelessly uttered or written, it must stand. 


62 


MIXED PICKLES. 


No matter what the lie was about; that was 
between the two Fritzes. Suffice it to tell that 
the big Fritz had suffered actual agony, fearing 
that his idol was going to be found wanting in 
that first foundation of all nobility, — truthful- 
ness. And the little Fritz has seen the agony, 
and — but the sorrow of a little child is sacred. 

So that rough corner of his character was 
polished till the shining gold showed bright and 
sparkling. Fritz never told a second lie; nor 
would he have done so for any enticement which 
could have been offered him. 

Now he remembered that he had been 
“ spunky ” and almost “killed” somebody; and 
somehow this tender-hearted little gentleman felt 
as if his day would begin better if he could get 
that unpleasant memory off his mind. So he 
slipped out of bed, threw his nightshirt into one 
corner of the room, soused the water in the bowl 
all over the floor, in his vain effort to make it 
answer for the tubbing to which he was accus- 
fomed, tried to straighten his curly tangles of 
hair with two strokes of the brush, then to but- 
ton his shoes on the wrong feet, and gave up the 


MIXED PICKLES, 


63 


matter as satisfactorily settled by leaving both 
unfastened, put his knickerbockers on wrong side 
before with a goodly protuberance of shirt waist 
to protest against the arrangement, and hied 
himself out of the room. 

As he passed a little chamber under the stairs, 
he heard the familiar snore of Fritz the elder, 
and was about to run back and get a pillow to 
hurl at him. It was a kind of awakening to 
which both the Fritzes were accustomed, in their 
loving equality of playfellows, but for once Fritz, 
junior, refrained. 

Not from the slightest hesitation about dis- 
turbing his guardian, but because it would hinder 
him from finding and apologizing to Melville. 
He was in a great hurry to get that job off his 
hands ; then he would be free to hunt up that 
donkey who lived with his pretty aunt, and ask 
his permission to be ridden. 

Melville was in a refreshing sleep. His feeble 
body needed it as much as his tired brain, for 
half of the invalid’s crossness came, had his 
relatives but known it, from a restlessness of 
mind which needed to be understood before it 


64 


MIXED PICKLES. 

could be cured. There had never been any one 
about him to understand it ; so the crippled lad 
had lain month in and month out weaving his 
fancies to himself, and disdaining to confide 
them to any other, as one shrinks from trusting 
a perfectly and freshly ripened cluster of grapes 
to the careless fingers of a child, lest its delicate 
bloom be lost before its beauty becomes known. 

Out of his dreamless rest he was awakened 
by the touch of a little hand. 

^^Wake up, you poor crippler, can’t you! I 
want to tell you I — Say, can’t you wake up ? ” 

Fritz had stiffened the grasp of his fingers to 
a painful clutch ; and he had yet to learn that 
Melville was habitually “ sore all over,” out- 
wardly as well as within. 

The clutch succeeded where the gentler touch 
had failed, and the sick lad opened his eyes with 
such suddenness that his disturber fairly jumped. 

“ What the dickens are you doing here again ? ” 
roared Melville. 

Fritz trembled. Still, he did not retreat; he 
was far too much in earnest. 

I come — I come — ” began the child, and 


MIXED PICKLES. 


65 


paused, confused. He somehow found this hu- 
miliation of himself vastly harder than any of 
the many similar confessions he had previously 
made. He was accustomed to having his “ I ’m 
sorrys ” met more than half way by the friendly 
interpretation of love. 

But there was no love in the scowling brow 
upon the pillow, and only a very present mem^ 
ory of the indignity which its owner had suffered. 

^‘Yes, I see you’ve ‘come.’ Why? That’s 
what I want to know ! ” thundered the invalid. 

“What is it, Melville? Did you call me, dar- 
ling?” sleepily asked Grandmothers Capers, 
coming to the doorway; and Fritz’s ready atten- 
tion was drawn away from his cousin to her. 

He looked ; he stared ; and as he stared his 
eyes grew bigger and bigger, which was quite 
unnecessary, since they were very round and 
wide open at all times. He had never seen any 
such person, and instantly he decided that the 
old lady was the “ Witch of Endor,” about whom 
his guardian was continually talking when things 
went wrong in his great business house. “ The 
‘ Witch of Endor’ is to pay ! ” was Uncle Fritz's 


66 


MIXED PICKLES. 


most vehement expression; and little Fritz 
thought that this must be she, and he did not 
at all wonder that big Fritz dreaded her. 

His feet began to shake in their ill-adjusted 
shoes, and, if his hair had not been so well 
deluged by those two dabs of the brush and bath 
water, it might have stood upright. 

Melville saw the growing consternation on the 
childish face before him, and turned from it to 
its cause. Then he did not even attempt to 
restrain the disrespectful laugh which followed. 

Grandmother Capers was one of -those saving 
old ladies who do not wear their false teeth when 
asleep ; and as by daylight she wore both 
“ upper ” and “ under, ” and as her features were 
of the sort described as hooked, the economy 
resulted in an undress, and sinister appearance, 
which was at least an unlucky transformation. 
Add to that the fact that she was also one of 
the fast fading race who cling to a combination 
of false-front and black silk skull-cap draped 
with lace by day, in lieu of their own silver locks, 
the effect when this regalia was laid aside added 
one more factor to a get-up which Fritz did not 


MIXED PICKLES. 


67 


find attractive. Then, being of slender build and 
sensitive temperament, she always found it con- 
venient to sleep wrapped in one shawl ; and, ow- 
ing to the undue exposure of the night just gone, 
she had put on a second, of rich color and great 
amplitude. Below all trailed a heavy dressing- 
gown which was summer and winter bedfellow 
to shawl number one. 

Melville was on the point of retorting to her 
usual fond inquiry : “ No, I didn’t ‘call you dar- 
ling ! ’ ” but one of those rare glimpses of humor 
which proved him, after all, to be something of a 
Kinsolving and relative to Ruth, averted the 
sharp retort. For the first time in his life he saw 
his doting grandmother as other people saw her ; 
or might see her, if they were admitted to the 
close intimacy which was his. 

“ For goodness sake, grandmother ! Have n’t 
you what you call a ‘ Bay State ’ shawl? ” 

“ Yes. And I suppose you think I ought to 
have it on.” She laughed gaily, in relief from 
the usual reprimand and appreciation of their 
mutual wit. 

But to the little foreigner the laugh was more 


68 


MIXED PICKLES. 


terrible than Melville’s frown had been. His 
chin dropped, and something very like a quiver 
swept over the brave red lips. 

Melville’s gaze had returned to his cousin’s 
face by then, and an impish impulse seized him. 
He would make Fritz kiss Grandmother Capers ! 
The child evidently regarded her with some inex- 
plicable terror, and this would be a punishment 
complete and well-deserved. 

“ Come here a minute, grandma.” 

The loving creature obeyed the summons 
swiftly, glad of his unusual gentleness, and in 
her feeble haste stumbled continually upon her 
long train. This gave her the hobbling gait which 
was the one touch needed to make her, in Fritz’s 
eyes, the so much dreaded “ Endor woman.” 

“ I want you to kiss this sweet little boy. He 
is an early visitor, and so devoted, you see ! ” 

Melville’s laugh, saying this, was harsh, but 
that Mrs. Capers did not observe. She only 
knew that Melville laughed. She was ready to 
do anything he asked of her. So she followed 
after the child, who slowly retreated, and bent 
her face to touch his. 


MIXED PICKLES. 69 

“ Kiss me, little man. Come, kiss me good- 
morning.” 

Kiss the “ Witch of Endor ! ” It was dreadful 
enough to know she really lived, and right here 
in his own grandmother’s house ; but — kiss her ! 
Before the horror of that rite the stalwart soul 
of the “ little man ” appeared to die within him. 
He tried to retreat still farther, and found him- 
self prevented by the barrier of a wall. He 
darted his terrified glance this way and that for 
some way of escape, but the pale morning light 
showed nothing clearly. Else would the still 
bright eyes of Grandmother Capers have seen 
what they did not see, that the child’s hesitation 
was not shyness but fear; and even for Melville’s 
dear sake she would not have done what she did 
do. 

Fritz felt the frill of her night-cap brush his 
hair, then her peppermint-scented breath reached 
his nostrils, and, with a shriek as if all the witches 
ever known to history were upon him, he struck 
out in his own defence. 

Melville, even, had looked for no such result 
as this. At the most, he expected to see “ a little 


70 


MIXED PICKLES, 


fun ” ; but his knowledge of healthy boyhood 
was slight, and a boy who, small as this one was, 
had yet pluck enough to protect himself from 
the aggressions even of “ witches ” was amazing 
to him. 

Needless to say that poor Mrs. Capers was far 
more astonished than her grandson, and with a 
more serious cause. As the first blow of the 
sturdy little fist fell on her unsuspecting cheek, 
she started and staggered back. Then came a 
second blow, and she retreated still farther; but 
her aged feet caught in the folds of her long gown, 
and she was thrown violently to the floor. 

For a moment chaos reigned. 

Fritzy’s fighting blood was up. “ St. George 
and the Dragon ” and “ Ralph the Lion Killer ’’ 
were nothing to him. He, who all unarmed and 
unsuspecting, had met and conquered Uncle 
Fritz’s “Witch of Endor ! ” Wouldn’t Fritzy 
Nunky be a proud and happy man when she 
should be safely out of the way, and no longer 
“ to pay ! ” At this thought the whacking blows 
redoubled, and it was only owing to Grandmother 
Capers’s well wrapped person that she was not 


MIXED PICKLES. 7 1 

then and there annihilated, as her adversary, 
forsooth, intended. 

Meanwhile, Melville lay helpless on his bed 
and hollaed. The game had gone to terrifying 
limits, and he was powerless to stop it, save by 
his lusty voice ; which, for awhile, seemed rather 
to egg on the small pugilist than to restrain him. 

Fortunately for all concerned. Content was also 
an early riser ; and this one morning in especial 
she had been “ up with the lark,” that she might 
help Aunt Ruth, rightly foreseeing that the sud- 
den invasion of a whole flock of hungry young- 
sters would make breakfast-getting a task for 
many hands. 

As she entered the passage which ran by the 
apartments devoted to the Caperses, the sound of 
Melville’s voice reached her. She was used 
already to hearing it pitched in the most dis- 
agreeable of tones, but there was something in 
these roars out of the common. She had heard 
him quarrelling with his grandmother, and, after 
intrusion on one such scene, had learned to take 
herself as far away as possible before witnessing 
another. Under all her gentleness, there was 


72 


MIXED PICKLES. 


still enough of the old Kinsolving “ substance ” 
left in Content’s veins to make her wholly sym- 
pathize with Aunt Ruth’s views concerning Mel- 
ville Capers’s treatment of his grandmother. 

She paused an instant; then, arrested by the 
difference in the ‘‘ roar,” the next she had 
pushed open the door and come upon the con- 
flict. What it meant she could not guess ; but 
what it was she saw only too plainly. With one 
bound she had caught up Fritz in her arms, and 
was holding the struggling child from further 
mischief. 

But he was not minded to be so restrained. 
“ Let me go ! Let me go, you great girl, you ! ” 

“ Hush ! Melville, stop calling, and tell me 
what it means,” answered Content, heedless of 
Fritz’s violent struggles but finding herself almost 
incompetent to control them. 

“ But I must call. There must somebody 
come. You can’t hold that infernal little beast 
and help grandma too. Ruth — Aunt Ruth ! 
Grandmother ! Somebody ! ! ” 

Grandmother Capers, feeling that she was no 
longer being assaulted, ventured to raise her 


MIXED PICKLES, 


73 


head. “Don’t mind me, darling. I — I’m not 
hurt much, I — I think.” But the feebleness of 
her tone denied her statement, and with a new 
distress Content saw that the poor old lady’s nose 
was bleeding. 

The sight of the scarlet flow he had caused for 
a moment incited Fritz to fresh struggles and 
fresh exhibitions of prowess. Truly, it had been 
reserved for the last of his race to be the fighter 
amongst them ! Another moment and he real- 
ized that this was the sweet-faced new cousin 
Content who was holding him, and that Aunt 
Ruth had said of her that she “ was very, very 
lovely in her mind, as well as in her person.” 

The weather-cock curiosity of childhood 
veered on the instant. He ceased kicking, but 
none too soon for the girlish strength he had 
taxed so severely, and improved his chance to 
scrutinize the features so near his own. Aunt 
Ruth had told him about Content, during that 
sleepy, undressing talk of the night before. 

“ How do you know that she is pretty in her 
mind, too? ” he had asked. 

“Because her mind shows through her face,” 


74 


MIXED PICKLES, 


Aunt Ruth had answered ; and now he had an 
excellent opportunity to see where. Not that he 
supposed his cousin’s face would be really trans- 
parent, but he believed it must be different from 
that of others. The only difference he found, 
however, was in the singular clearness and gen- 
tleness of her expression. 

Content saw that for some reason she had 
gained his momentary attention, and she followed 
up her advantage. “ Go quickly, and call Aunt 
Ruth. If you cannot find her bring somebody — 
the first person you can see.” Then she sat him 
down upon the floor, still wistfully regarding him 
lest this strange combination of tenderness and 
wrath, in the form of a boy, should develop some 
new and more untoward quality as well. 

But she need not have feared. Beside the 
quiet command of her eye, his ear had caught 
the words : “ Are you badly hurt, poor grand- 
ma?” uttered in a sympathetic voice by the 
roaring crippler,” and he was completely at 
sea. So he walked slowly out of the room, but 
less in obedience to her wish than because he was 
puzzling to understand how this Melville, who was 


MIXED PICKLES. 


75 


his own cousin and lived here in America, could 
by any possibility be the grandson of the “ Witch 
of Endor," who, he was perfectly sure, belonged 
by good rights at his uncle’s great book shop in 
Munich. So perplexed, indeed, was he by this 
problem that he walked straight into the legs of 
portly “ Fritzy Nunky.” 

“ Hey, small sir ! And so after waking up thy 
poor guardian with thy noisy racing over the 
stairs thou wouldst walk him down like a nine- 
pin ! Hey ? ” The jolly uncle swung his nephew . 
to his shoulder, and marched away through the 
passage to the open door at its end. 

When they came to the sunlight, he cried, 
“And pray where was thy valet this morning? 
Surely, there is something out of common with 
this ! ” The great hand caught hold of the es- 
caping waist frill and tucked it into hiding. 

“ But, Fritzy Nunky, I forgot. They want 
you, the folks do. The roaring crippler, and the 
lovely-minded girl, and the ‘Witch of Endor.’ 

I reckon I ’ve about settled her, though ! So 
you won’t have her no more ‘ to pay.’ Ain’t 
you awful glad ? ” 


76 


MIXED PICKLES. 


By many unfortunate experiences Uncle Fritz 
had learned that he could not always rejoice 
when called upon to do so by his small nephew, 
and he promptly inquired, with some misgiving, 
“ What do you mean, child? ” 

Fritz, junior, recognized the change from the 
tender “ thou ” to the sterner “ you,” which with 
his guardian “ meant business,” and he answered, 
instantly : 

“ I Ve pounded the old woman in there pretty 
hard, I reckon ; and the girl said for you to come 
quick.” 

“ O Fritzy ! more mischief? ” demanded the 
uncle, reproachfully. Then he put the little boy 
down and ordered him to lead the way. 

So Mr. Fritz Pickel’s introduction to old lady 
Capers was made under circumstances which 
neither that devotee of conventionality nor the 
courteous gentleman would have preferred. But 
one glance of his keen eyes showed him that the 
case was far too serious for any ceremony, and 
the expression of them as they rested upon the 
strangely attired and prostrate figure was one 
that his little nephew never forgot. 


CHAPTER VII. 


It was a very grave and tear-bedimmed little 
lad who sat on his guardian’s knee. It had 
been a gentle but earnest talk which had caused 
the tears ; and somehow the boy understood 
well just what it was in his behavior which 
had so troubled Fritzy Nunky’s heart, “ down 
deep.” 

The trouble had not been just the same as that 
one about the untruth ; but it had come nearest 
to that of any emotion the dear face had ever 
shown. 

You see, don’t you, little man? ” 

“Yes — I see,” Fritz made answer, between 
those long, swelling sobs which are so distressing 
to the child lover. “ It ’s this here way : I am 
a good boy, and you know I am a good boy. 
An’ you want these new folks to know I ain’t a 
reg’lar fighter, but I ’m pretty good. But you 
see, it don’t — it isn’t — I couldn’t, — well, I 
could n’t just help pitchin’ into that Melville. I 


MIXED PICKLES. 


7B 

did n’t do it for ugly, but I could n’t ^pear to help 
it, nohow ! I hope I don’t want to do it again ; 
but if I do, how’m I goin’ to help it? It’s the 
quickness inside of me that makes my fists go 
doubleup. Itis’nt — me!” 

“ How, then, art thou going to prove to these 
kinsfolk that it isn’t ‘me?’ I fear the dear 
grandmother thinks it is the real ‘ me ’ ; and I am 
sure the Aunt Ruth does.” 

“ But can’t you make her understand diff ’runt? 
Couldn’t you tell her how good I am, Fritzy 
Nunky?” asked the unhappy child, coaxingly. 

“ Be sure. I will do that. But how am I to 
make it seem real to her? Thou wilt have to 
make her understand that — I cannot. Fritzy 
Nunky does know about the good heart, and 
the fair intentions ; but if they do not show on 
the outside, what then? ” 

The question was too deep for little Fritz. He 
waived it, asking another : — 

“Who is the ‘Witch of Endor? ’ I ain’t a- 
going to fight her no more, you bet ! ” 

Uncle Fritz smiled, but not very happily. 
“ She was a very wise old lady who lived in 


MIXED PICKLES. 


79 


ancient times.” Then, thinking to disabuse the 
lad’s mind of mistaken notions, he added : “ She 
must have been a kindly soul, too ; for when the 
King Saul, — a man who fought, and intended 
to fight, so was not like my boy, — when this 
fighting king came to her, though she was afraid 
he would kill her, yet she made him a dinner of 
her fatted calf and a wheaten cake.” 

“Calf? That’s veal, isn’t it? Suppose it 
was a veal pot-pie, like Aunt Ruth had for 
dinner? ” 

“ Maybe.” 

“ Must ha’ been good ! And did the fighter 
have her ‘ to pay ? ’ ” 

Poor Uncle Fritz laughed. Then- he enlarged 
upon the good qualities of the ancient dame 
with “ the familiar spirit,” hoping to arouse some 
liking for her in his nephew’s breast, and craftily 
leading the child on to understand that all these 
excellent things were repeated and strengthened 
in the present person of Mrs. Margaret Capers. 

“ But if she was so good, why do you still have 
her ‘ to pay? 

“ Because I am a foolish man. I use words 


8o 


MIXED PICKLES, 


and expressions that I should not. I get vexed 
when things go wrong, and then I feel I must say 
something. That expression which has so mis- 
led you came most natural; and now, indeed, 
I do have ‘ to pay ’ by seeing what a muddle I 
have led you into.” 

There was much more of this talk, during 
which the guardian did not exempt himself from 
a generous share of the blame. If he had “ had 
more wisdom ” his charges would have made a 
better showing on their first appearance at their 
new home, and not have appeared so much like 
a lot of untrained savages.” Consequently, 
their reception would have been more cordial. 

For it must be confessed that the friendly Aunt 
Ruth had not treated her younger nephew with 
much consideration after his second pugilistic 
exploit. She did not care to have history repeat 
itself in that way. It was one thing when the 
victim was that exasperating Melville, and quite 
another when a frail old lady was the sufferer. 
She had not said very much, and therein congrat- 
ulated herself for being unusually prudent; but, 
as Fritz had expressed it, “ she had looked with 


MIXED PICKLES, 


8l 


her eyes ” in a way that meant volumes, and “talk- 
ing eyes ” had been the one thing he had ever 
feared most. Uncle Fritz “talked eyes” when 
he was the most deeply aggrieved ; and little 
Fritz found it most unpleasant to have an Ameri- 
can relative addicted to the same bad habit. 

She came into the room just then and there, 
and, seeing the two Fritzes in such confidential 
discussion, would have speedily withdrawn, had 
not the gentleman risen and begged her to re- 
main. It was as good a time as another to ex- 
plain how matters really were. 

So Aunt Ruth sat down and listened patiently ; 
but with an unbelieving manner which hurt the 
kindly German far more than she dreamed. 

“ Yes, I doubt not they are excellent children, 
as children go ; but I have had little experience.” 

Mr. Pickel smiled. 

“ Your tone indicates that you have still had 
all that you desire — ” 

“ No, no ; thee must not say that, nor think it,” 
interrupted the lady quickly. “ They are my 
sister’s children. It is right that I should be 
bothered with them, as well as that thee should 


82 


MIXED PICKLES. 


be. Thee has certainly had thy share of their 
care.” 

“ Please do not look at it in that light, dear 
Fraulein. It is not the care that I dislike ; indeed, 
that I never feel. It is that you and your mother 
should misjudge my children, and not understand 
how really good and delightful they are. Fritzy, 
now — ” Here Ruth intercepted a grateful 
glance which the child raised to his uncle’s 
face, and could not fail to be touched by it. 
“ Fritzy is a wonderfully obedient and honorable 
child.” 

“Fritzy” began to prick up his ears; but he 
let them droop, so to speak, at sound of his aunt’s 
expressive “ Humph ! ” But he was very tired 
of the whole subject, and longed to make an end 
of it. It was already afternoon of that day 
which had opened with such bright anticipations 
of a new donkey friendship, and all he had been 
able to accomplish in the way of it was to stand 
sorrowfully in the door-way of the passage, where 
Uncle Fritz had bidden him remain, and sigh in 
sympathy with Don’s mournful bray. At that 
very moment the echo of it came to their ears. 


MIXED PICKLES. 83 

and the boy left his uncle to walk to the window 
and look out. 

Young as he was, Fritzy still hated to make 
promises, for he had already learned by observa- 
tion that it is a very difficult matter to keep them. 
But he suddenly determined to run the risk of one, 
thinking by that means to cut short this weari- 
some talk and his own imprisonment, as well as 
bring back the right kind of a smile to his pretty 
aunt’s face. So he walked toward her, watching 
her eyes intently, and was relieved to find them 
“ talking ” no longer, or only in a gentle way. 

“ Aunt Ruth, I won’t never fight anybody any 
more. Truly, never.” 

“That is a rash thing to say, Fritzy; how 
about the ‘ quickness inside of you ? ’ ” asked his 
guardian, cautiously. 

“ Oh, I s’pose it ’ll bother me like ginger ; 
but if I say I won’t, I won’t; will I, uncle?” 

“ I think he is to be trusted, Fraulein,” testified 
that witness. 

Ruth stooped down and raised Fritzy to her 
lap. 

“ Listen, little one; we are Friends — Quakers 


MIXED PICKLES. 


— in this household. Our yea is yea, and our 
nay, nay. Thee is Quaker, too, on thy mother’s 
side, and I am going to believe it is she who 
speaks through thee. Now thee may kiss me 
and go to Don.” 

“ I hope he will not be tempted to break his 
word,” commented Aunt Ruth, as the lad dis- 
appeared like a flash through the open doorway. 

“ He may be tempted, but he will not break 
it,” answered Uncle Fritz, quietly. 

Thee speaks strongly, and he is — such a 
child.” 

“Because he is — such a child, dear Fraulein. 
They are all dear and delightful, but little Fritz, 

— he is my one ‘ sweet pickle.’ ” 

Smiling at this very evident truth. Aunt Ruth, 
with a greatly relieved heart, followed “ little 
Fritz.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 


*‘What is it, Paula?” demanded Octave. 

You look as if you had been taking a dose of 
castor oil.” 

“ Hateful boy ! ” said Paula. 

“Who?” 

“ That Melville Capers. He ’s as horrid 
as — ” 

“ As a boy. You can’t compare him to any- 
thing worse, ” laughed the younger girl. 

“ All boys cannot be like him, or grown-up 
folks would n’t endure them. They ’d imprison 
them somewhere till they learned decency. I 
shall have nothing more to do with him ! ” 

“Why, Paula! Lose all the honor of recon- 
structing him? You, the head of the family? 
What did he do or say? What are you mad 
at?” 

“ I ’m not mad. It is an unladylike word.” 

“ Pooh ! You ’re as mad as a March hare, or 
a hornet, or a bear with a so — ” 


86 


MIXED PICKLES, 


“ Octave Picket ! I should think you would 
be ashamed of yourself! A young lady fourteen 
years old using such coarse expressions I ” 

“ A young lady sixteen years old giving occa- 
sion to me to use them 1 Paula Picket, I should 
think you would be ashamed of yourself I You 
would if you knew how you were looking at this 
very minute.” 

“Why? What?” asked the elder girl, anx- 
iously, rising and crossing to the tiny mirror. 
“ I do wish Aunt Ruth would let us have some- 
thing bigger than this to use I It ’s so small that 
I cannot see more than half of my head at one 
time I ” 

“ Do as I do, ” laughed Octave ; “ dress your- 
self before the wardrobe door.” And suiting the 
action to the word, the merry girl placed herself 
in front of the door in question and gravely began 
to brush and freshen her long, tangled hair. 

She had finished and had put on a clean gown, 
ready for the supper table, for which her healthy 
appetite was also ready, long before Paula had 
ceased twisting and turning about before the lit- 
tle glass to see what was amiss with herself. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


87 


I don’t see anything, Octave. What was it 
that was wrong?” she cried, as her sister went 
dancing and singing out of the room. Stop, 
and do tell me ! ” 

“ I dare n’t ! ” 

“Why?” 

“ You ’d say, ‘ Octave, Octave ! ’ in that re- 
proachful tone of yours ; and how should I ever 
bear it? ” 

“ Oh, you — ” 

“ Darling, — I know it ; I realize it. Seriously, 
sweetheart, there was nothing wrong with your 
appearance, only — ” 

“ Only what? Do tell me. I don’t want to go 
down stairs looking like — ” 

“ Like your careless sister Octave ! It ’s only 
what Fritzy says about Content : the ‘ lovely mind 
showing through her face ’ ; so it was with you, 
heart’s dearest ! ” 

And laughing at the renewed disgust in her 
victim’s countenance. Octave ran away. She 
could no more forbear teasing somebody than she 
could doing the hundred and one other useless 
things which were the result of her overflowing 


88 


MIXED PICKLES. 


life. Paula was dear, really ; but Paula was such 
fun ! And poor Paula herself was just sufficiently 
conscious of her own shortcomings to make her 
, doubly sensitive to others’ raillery. 

Only those shortcomings did not lie in the 
direction she supposed; and they did lie just in 
the road Octave had suggested. Paula bewailed 
her occasional lack of dignity, her lapses from 
correctness of speech, her ignorance of style, 
and any other slight flaw in a character she was 
really accustomed to think a bit above par. 

Full of herself, and full of plans, she had gone 
that afternoon to sit with her cousin Melville. 
The family project for improving that disagree- 
able invalid had been held in abeyance by the 
condition of poor Mrs. Capers, who, for a fort- 
night, had been drooping and under the doctor’s 
care, while her charge was almost wholly neg- 
lected by that good man. 

The fright her ghastly face and fainting condi- 
tion had given Mr. Pickel, after his nephew had 
paid her ” for her suppTosed resemblance to the 
“ Witch of Endor,” had abated as the day wore 
on, and her injuries had appeared not to be seri- 


MIXED PICKLES, 89 

ous. And, afterward, she had seemed not really 
ill, but simply not as usual. 

In the secret of her own heart she believed 
that she had “ got her warning” ; and when, one 
day, the physician had ordered her to go to bed 
“ for a bit,” she had felt that she was obeying 
him forever. 

Oddly enough, yet perhaps not really so oddly 
after all, the old lady had taken a fancy that of all 
the household little Christina should attend her 
few wants. Paula she would not see on any pre- 
text, and Octave she found too noisy. Content 
had taken her own place at Melville’s bedside, 
and this was how she would have had it, since 
Content would bear in silence what the others 
would resent in anger. 

Aunt Ruth was busy, always, with the needs 
of such a family, and gentle Amy Kinsolving’s 
strength would allow of her doing no more than 
go from room to room of the well-filled Snug- 
gery, “ carrying sunshine ” and words of good- 
cheer. 

But this day there seemed to be a lull in the 
rush of affairs, and Paula thought that she could 


90 


MIXED PICKLES. 


do two benevolent things at once. Unfortunately, 
few, however skilful, do “ kill two birds with one 
stone ” ; and Paula was most unskilled. Her 
missionary spirit was of the warlike kind ; and, 
as she would have said to a tropical heathen, 
“ You must read your Bible and wear these 
clothes,” so she started in to reform Melville by 
feeling that it rested with her to make him do 
what she considered fitting. 

Now, nobody, big or little, on this earth likes 
to be what Fritz called “ musted.” Even Con- 
tent felt a disinclination to leave her post at the 
cripple’s side, since they had found that in their 
mutual love of Dickens and his magic they could 
meet on happy ground. The girl’s musical voice 
was just picturing, with a pathos her sympathy 
made real, the death-scene of little Paul Dom- 
bey, and both reader and listener were steeped 
in sorrow for the loss of one who was a real per- 
sonage to them, when the door opened and Paula, 
crisp and rattling in her freshly starched skirts, 
entered. 

To sensitive Melville, the effect was as if she 
had struck him ; while Content felt as deep if a 
quieter disappointment. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


91 


“IVe come to sit with you, Melville; and 
Content, you are to go right out and have a game 
of tennis. Aunt Ruth says this moping indoors 
is n’t good for you.” 

“Tennis! Alone? And I’m not moping at 
all. We were having a real good time; weren’t 
we, Melville?” 

“ We were ; but it’s over ! ” 

“ Oh, no, indeed ; it is n’t over. If Aunt Ruth 
wished me to go out of doors, I am sure it 
was because she thought I must be tired. But 
I ’m not tired ; I ’d rather read Dickens than play 
tennis.” 

“ Why, Content Kinsolving ! Here you have 
been held up to us as a shining example, and you 
are, after all, what even little Fritz would disdain 
to be, — disobedient I ” 

“ Paula 1 Did Aunt Ruth really say I was to 
go out?” asked Content, with her color rising. 

Now, Ruth had said nothing of the kind. What 
she had remarked was that she wished Content 
cared more for such healthful games as this — 
to her — new one of lawn tennis, which had been 
introduced at The Snuggery along with the pony- 


92 


MIXED PICKLES. 


cart, the archery outfit, the photographic camera, 
and the various other amusements which that 
most indulgent man, “ Fritzy Nunky,” provided 
for his charges. 

However, Paula felt herself warranted in inter- 
preting the spirit of her aunt’s words in a fashion 
to suit herself. She was bent on missionizing ; 
and she silenced any misgivings of her own con- 
science by the conclusion that the end justified 
the means. Though her face flushed with guilty 
shame at the lie she was acting, she did not dis- 
tinctly answer; but the air of injured innocence 
with which she took her place by the foot of 
Melville’s lounge said more than speech; — she, 
Paula, was not accustomed to have her word 
doubted ; if Content was suspicious enough to 
mistrust her, why she was above resentment ; as 
for her, she always did her duty, whether other 
people did or not. All this was conveyed to 
quick-witted Content by the simple manner in 
which Paula spread out her dress, tossed her fair 
head, and quietly took her seat. 

Poor Content was far from being an example, 
or even a lovely-minded girl,” at that moment. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


93 


She did not remember to have ever been so angry 
in her life. And yet, since there had been no 
word uttered, there could be nothing to contest. 
For once she felt that she would enjoy a good 
squabble — it would have been such a relief to 
her feelings. But one glance into Melville’s 
darkening eyes and frowning brow convinced her 
that she could safely leave the matter in his 
hands ; and it was with a satisfaction which 
proved her to be most humanly erring that the 
girl laid down her book and went away. 

“ Deliver me from a saint ! ” 

“ What ? ” sweetly asked Paula. Having carried 
her point she was in a most complacent mood. 

“ I said, — Deliver me from a saint ! That ’s 
you! Do you hear? Understand?” 

“Yes, I hear; but I do not mind it. You are 
so ill that you are scarcely responsible for what 
you say. I mean” — for she suddenly recol- 
lected that she was about to lecture her cousin 
on his wretched lack of self-control, and was 
contradicting herself beforehand — “I mean, that 
although you are hard to get along with, I at least 
have sympathy with you.” 


94 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Hang your sympathy ! ” retorted its ungrate- 
ful recipient. 

Paula paid no heed. “ Shall I go on reading 
where Content left off? ” 

“ No ! ” thundered this lad of the mighty voice. 
“ It would be sacrilege.” 

What do you mean ? ” asked Paula, forgetting 
for an instant the r61e of angel she had intended 
to play. 

“ I mean that it is n’t such a prig as you who 
can understand Dickens ! ” 

“ Prig is a word to apply to boys, Cousin Mel- 
ville.” 

To girls, also, when they make nuisances of 
themselves.” 

Paula bit her lip ; but she conquered her tem- 
per by holding up to mental view the wonderful 
good she was determined to accomplish even by 
means of the falsehold she had acted. It would 
be so delightful, when she had converted Melville 
from the error of his ways by sheer force of her 
own perfection, to hear her friends say, “ That is 
all dear Paula’s work. Melville was a thoroughly 
disagreeable boy when Paula took him in hand. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


95 


We owe so much to Paula.” And almost hearing 
these laudatory phrases, so keenly did she imagine 
them, she turned again toward her victim with 
the question, “ If you are tired of Dickens, what 
would you have me read ? ” 

“ Nothing. If you read as you talk, it would 
be unendurable to me. Why do you clip off the 
ends of your words in such a fashion ? This is n’t 
a ‘ woom,’ and that is n’t a ^ wockin’ -chai-ah ! ’ ” 
Now, if there was anything about herself of 
which Paula was more proud than another, it was 
her sweet and well-trained voice. Her modula- 
tion was exquisite, and it really pleased Melville ; 
but because he saw that it was a weak point with 
his cousin he selected it as an object of ridicule. 

Paula waited till she had counted ten twice 
over, before she ventured to speak. Then she 
ignored Melville’s attack and asked, “ What would 
you like me to do, then, if you do not wish me 
to read ? ” 

“ Clear out.” 

Melville Capers, you are no gentleman ! ” 

You are no saint, so you need n’t pose for 
one ! ” 


96 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ I do not pose.” 

You do. You came in here with that sancti- 
monious look on your face, — though a lie in your 
heart, — as if you thought yourself a little better 
than all the world, and were fully determined that 
all the world should know it.” 

The sneer which cuts deepest is the sneer which 
has a bit of truth in it. . 

Poor Paula eyes filled. She did not find the 
work of missionizing so much to her taste as she 
had fancied, and it is certain that she could not 
have selected a more difficult subject to try her 
hand upon. 

Melville was shrewd and clever. Paula was 
clever, but not at all shrewd. The boy did not 
know, of course, about the family project of his 
reconstruction, but he was quick to scent out 
Paula’s motive for preaching to him. 

See here,” he said testily ; “ we might as well 
make an end of this business before it is begun. 
I am shut in here, and cannot do much for my- 
self ; but what I can do I will — you bet ! And 
one of these things is that I can say who shall 
and who shall not inflict their society upon me. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


97 


These rooms belong to my grandmother and me 
as much as the rest of the house does to Grand- 
mother Kinsolving. There is one class on which 
I shall always have the door shut, — the class of 
saints. It is unfortunate that you should belong to 
it ; but, since you do, the deduction is obvious.” 

If Paula had had any doubt as to his meaning, 
it was removed by the very significant glance her 
cousin cast upon the door. With burning cheeks, 
and feeling as if she would never again try any 
missionary work, she rose and walked away. As 
she reached the door, Melville called after her: 
“ If you see Content, or even the. little fighter, 
send them in. It’s horrid lonesome.” 

There was no reply, and as her footsteps died 
away Melville judged, and rightly, that his message 
would not be delivered. Paula went straight to 
her room, and to her teasing sister Octave, to go 
through the familiar trial of the younger girl’s 
gibing tongue just when she was most ill-fitted to 
endure it. 

It was an hour after Octave had left her, and 
after poor Paula had relieved her anger by a fit 
of weeping, that she smoothed her ruffled feathers 


98 


MIXED PICKLES. 


once more and went below stairs. She expected 
a word of reproof from her punctual Aunt Ruth 
for her late appearance at table, but to her sur- 
prise the supper-room was unoccupied. The meal 
had evidently been going on, and had been inter- 
rupted by some unusual occurrence ; for the plates 
showed half-eaten food, napkins had fallen in un- 
com.mon places, and the disarranged chairs proved 
that the family had left the apartment in haste. 

Paula walked to the door and looked out. There 
was not a person in sight ; neither was there any- 
thing but the absence of humAn life to give her 
occasion for anxiety ; yet a feeling of uneasiness 
stole over her, which, had she been as nervous as 
Mrs. Capers, she would have called a “ presenti- 
ment” of some mischance. 

After a moment of searching the lawn for any 
sign of the family, she fancied that she could de- 
tect the outlines of a group of people in a distant 
field, which was almost hidden from the house by 
a thick grove; she raised her clear voice and 
shouted, “ Octave ! Christina ! Uncle Fritz ! ” 

But only the echo of her own cries came back 
to her from the surrounding hill-tops. 


CHAPTER IX. 


Divided between curiosity and hunger, Paula 
stood for some seconds deliberating whether she 
should go to join the group of people in the dis- 
tant field or eat her supper. She finally decided 
upon a compromise, and, carefully spreading a 
delicate slice of bread, she made a sandwich of it 
by adding a bit of boiled ham, and thus fortified 
for any emergency she left the house. 

She walked rapidly, at the same time casting 
furtive glances about lest somebody should see 
her “ unladylike ” performance of taking her 
supper “ on the fly,” as was the habit of harum- 
scarum Octave. But no one observed her, or 
would have been at all shocked had they done so ; 
and when the sandwich was finished the girl 
quickened her steps to a run, and reached her 
family in a breathless state unusual with her. 

It was a scene of confusion upon which she 
came so hurriedly ; but her first exclamation was 
one of relief : “ Oh,' it is only Octave ! ” 


TOO 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ Only Octave ! ” spoke volumes. It showed 
how familiar the elder sister had become with 
that unlucky maiden’s misfortunes ; which were, 
indeed, even one degree more frequent than those 
of little Fritz, and he appeared — according to 
his Aunt Ruth’s fancy — to exist merely for the 
sake of tumbling out of one scrape into another. 
That Octave had not before this displayed her 
aptitude for disaster was due to the fact that 
provocation for such was rare at the peaceful 
Snuggery. 

“ ‘ Only Octave ! ’ but she has about done for 
herself, this time,” replied Uncle Fritz. He sat 
on the ground, holding his niece in his arms, look- 
ing very anxious but very red and heated as well. 
He was too stout to make the swift run he did 
without suffering for it, and Paula stooped down 
and offered to take his place in supporting the 
girl who lay so still and white before them all. 

Even in the midst of her anxiety Aunt Ruth 
noticed Paula’s action, and was more pleased by 
it than she was accustomed to be by that “ young 
lady’s” ways. It showed a consideration and 
sisterliness which, in her first hasty estimate of 


MIXED PICKLES. 


lOI 


Miss Pickel’s” character, the aunt had believed 
to be entirely wanting. 

Grandmother Kinsolving stood at a little dis- 
tance from the group, resting against Content, 
while Christina and Fritzy hugged each other in 
a terror of some great grief. 

“What is it all about? ” asked Paula, anxiously, 
bending to see if Octave was not beginning to 
breathe again, and even then shrinking a trifle 
from the streams of water with which Uncle Fritz, 
with a liberal impartiality, was deluging his un- 
conscious niece and all who surrounded her. 

“ I reckon it was this here way,” replied the 
farmer, Abraham Tewksbury, who managed the 
farm for the Kinsolvings ; “ I was a-lettin’ the team 
stand whilst I run back ter shet the bars. This 
’ere was the last load I was a-goin’ ter tackle ter- 
night, ar^’ the boys hed gone on ter the barn ter 
commence milkin’. I ’lowed to ’em ’t I could git 
the load in alone; an’ so I could, ef — ” Here 
the narrator cast a glance, half angry, half sorry, 
at the victim of her own good-will. “ But Octavy, 
here, she come a-tearin’ out the house an’ down 
here, like she was possessed. ‘ Lemme drive the 


102 


MIXED PICKLES, 


horses, Abryham,’ sez she. I told her she ’d a- 
better not ; ’cause one on ’em was kinder coltish, 
an’ not used ter strange drivers. But she ’d got 
her head sot, an’ whilst I was gone ter the bars 
up she dumb outer the hay-riggin’ an’ grabbed 
the reins. Fust I knowed, I heered her holler, an’ 
then she give a sort of Injun warwhoop ; an’ then 
she snatched a whistle out her pocket an’ begun 
ter blow it. I yelled to her ter stop. That off 
mare she was scairt once at a band, an’ she hain’t 
never fergot it ; but Octavy, she uther did n’t 
hear me, er less she warn’t afraid, for she kep’ 
right on a-blowin’. Next I knowed, thar she was 
an’ the hull load o’ hay a-top of her, an’ the horses 
broke loose an’ runnin’ like Jehuwhittaker ! ” 
Abraham paused for want of breath, and all 
eyes were gladdened by the signs of returning 
consciousness which poor Octave showed. She 
had been stunned and almost smothered by her 
fall, and the hay which fell with her. It had been 
Abraham Tewksbury’s lusty yells which had 
roused the family from their supper talk, and then 
they had all flown to the scene of the accident. 
By the time they reached it the farmer had caught 


MIXED PICKLES. 


103 


and unhitched the team, and leaving them to find 
their own way stableward had vigorously set to 
work to toss the hay from off the girl, and to see 
if she were yet alive. That she should escape 
with her life, after being dragged half the length 
of the great meadow, seemed to him little short 
of a miracle. 

“ I s’pose it was the hay ’t saved her. No, I 
don’t nuther. It was Providence. Nothin’ else 
on the face o’ the airth ! ” he had ejaculated fer- 
vently. 

“ Thee is right, Abraham. The Providence who 
watches over all His children,” said Grandmother 
Kinsolving, quietly. Even in that supreme mo- 
ment of anxiety which her pallor showed her to 
be suffering, the outward serenity of Mother 
Amy’s face remained sweet and undisturbed, and 
Ruth wondered if anything could ever find her 
distrustful or afraid. 

At a motion from Ruth’s hand. Uncle Fritz 
ceased racing to and fro between the brookside 
and the fainting Octave, and waited while she 
opened her eyes and looked wearily about her. 
Then he darted off for a horse and disappeared 
in search of the doctor, 


104 


MIXED PICKLES. 


When she could talk, Octave assured her anx- 
ious friends that she was “ not hurt but scared ” ; 
but when she attempted to raise herself on her 
elbow she sank back with a groan, and the slowly- 
returning color vanished anew from her face. 

“ Do ye think it would hurt ye very bad ef I 
should carry ye ter the house, Octavy?” asked 
Abraham, kindly. 

“ I hate — to move,” answered the poor girl, 
faintly. 

“ Yis, I don’t doubt it, not in the least ; but ye 
know ye carn’t lay there all night, an’ I guess my 
carryin’ on ye won’t hurt ye so much as ’t would 
ter be took some other way.” 

The others agreed with Mr. Tewksbury, and 
after one more protest from the injured girl, he 
lifted her in his strong arms and set out carefully 
for the house. The family followed slowly. Aunt 
Ruth’s face worn and terrified, as she saw that the 
motion, gentle as it was, made her niece sink into 
another faint. She tried to recall something of 
the peacefulness of her life before these pickles” 
came into it; and Melville’s ill-temper and sel- 
fishness appeared almost angelic by contrast. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


105 


It was just a month since that fateful telegram 
had exploded in their midst, and already it seemed 
to the young mistress like a lifetime. A month — 
and Fritz, senior, had had the care of these chil- 
dren for years ! How had he ever managed and 
yet retain his jollity? He not only endured them, 
but he seemed actually wretched at the thought 
of his long journey into South America, which 
v/ould take him away from them for a few weeks. 
Then the thought recurred of his advice about 
Melville : “ Just love him.” Ah ! it must be this 
“just loving” that made all the difference. 

“ I would love them, too ; I should be glad to 
— if they would only keep still long enough ! ” 
ejaculated the perplexed woman. 

Fritzy heard her, and was glad to have the 
silence broken. 

“What did you say. Aunt Ruthy?” 

“ I said — O Fritzy! Is something always 
happening to thee or thy sisters ? Is there no 
such thing as quiet any more ? ” 

The child looked gravely into the troubled face 
above him. “Why, yes, Auntie; I am quiet, 
ain’t I ? They ain’t nothin’ ‘ happened ’ to me 


io6 


MIXED PICKLES, 


this whole, endurin’ day. Now, Octave, she’s 
settled ; an’ Paula, she don’t never do anything 
not ezactly proper, so Fritzy Nunky says. Chris- 
tina does n’t do anything bad at all. I reckon 
it ’ll be all right. Aunt Ruthy, now.” 

Ruth smiled. Yet he comforted her also, for 
there was such a world of affection in his big blue 
eyes, as he lifted them to her troubled face, that 
her heart warmed to him. After all, though they 
were so vexatious, these “ mixed pickles ” left by 
her dead sister for some one to care for, did, as 
Uncle Fritz had predicted, “ season ” her life with 
a new interest. She would not exactly like to 
part with them just yet. 

But her thoughts were interrupted by their 
arrival at the house, and the preparations for 
getting Octave made comfortable in her own bed- 
chamber. 

Then the doctor came and examined the suf- 
fering girl, and reported, as a result of her prank, 
a broken arm and a badly sprained ankle. “And 
it is well she has escaped, even at that cost ; she 
could not take a similar risk again and come out 
of it alive/’ added the physician gravely. 


MIXED PICKLES, 


107 


Uncle Fritz, was to have gone away on the 
morrow, but this accident deferred his departure ; 
and over that the whole household rejoiced so 
heartily as almost to lose sight of the cause of 
the delay. 

Octave herself helped them to forget. The 
same exuberance of life that carried her into one 
scrape after another, served to sustain her under 
any trial. A night’s rest set her nerves all 
straight, and her healthy body suffered less than 
another’s might have done. So long as she 
obeyed orders and lay perfectly still, she was com- 
paratively free from pain, and she had not been 
crippled for a day before she began making plans 
for her own comfort and that of every one else. 

‘‘ Now, you see. Aunt Ruth, that there is no 
use in having this pretty room of yours all in a 
muddle, as it is sure to be if I stay in it ; besides, 
grandma does n’t get her nap as she ought to do 
with me so close to her room, and all the ‘pickles’ 
running in and out, as they do. Just you have my 
cot rolled into Melville’s sitting-room, and I ’ll stay 
there days. Nights I can sleep in that funny little 
hall outside of it, which I think is the prettiest 


io8 


MIXED PICKLES. 


place in the whole house. Then, you see, the one 
who takes care of Melville, or hears him grumble, 
will have to hear me too, — lump it.” 

“ Thee does n’t know Melville as well as I do, 
dear Octave, or thee would never propose such 
an arrangement as that.” 

“ Pooh ! — I don’t mean that for you. Aunt 
Ruth, but for him ! If you all treated his royal 
highness to a little more ‘ pooh ! ’ and a little less 
‘ please ! ' he ’d be a more self-respecting boy. 
Try it, anyhow, won’t you? I can’t hurt him 
very much, now I ’ve got myself tied down to this 
bed of roses. Try it, and I ’ll lose my guess if I 
don’t do him good.” 

Ruth laughed. Octave’s cheeriness surprised 
and greatly pleased her. Not even illness seemed 
to affect the merry girl’s spirit, and she was quite 
inclined to accept her proposition. The more so 
as Grandmother Kinsolving was the idol of her 
daughter’s heart, and Octave had hit the nail very 
squarely on the head in saying that the old lady’s 
rest would of necessity be greatly lessened by 
having Ruth’s adjoining room occupied “ as a 
hospital.” Mother Amy was frail at the best; 


MIXED PICKLES. 


109 


and, before these Pickels came, her health had 
been the one anxiety and care of the young house- 
keeper. 

“ Thee is a thoughtful child. Octave. I am half- 
minded to give thy notion a trial.” 

The injured girl’s face brightened still more. 
“ I did not know that you ever had a ‘ half-mind,’ 
Aunt Ruthy. You look always decided enough 
to have a great, big, sound, and whole one, with a 
few ‘pieces’ to spare. Well, let’s get ‘ Abry- 
ham ’ and I ’ll ‘ beard the lion,’ and all the rest 
of it.” 

“ We will hope that ‘ all the rest of it ’ will not 
prove too much for even thy daring soul,” re- 
plied Aunt Ruth gaily ; and as she passed out of 
the room she paused to give her charge a quiet 
kiss. This demonstration was rare with the aunt, 
and little Fritz alone of all his family would not 
have found it so. Because it was so unusual it 
was all the more appreciated by its recipient, and 
Octave banished the last regret she had felt ; for^ 
gay as she was, and little as she acknowledged it, 
there was an unselfishness in her proposal which 
even Aunt Ruth did not suspect. It was seldom 


no 


MIXED PICKLES. 


that Octave appeared to think of herself; but no 
one had ever observed that this was from any 
principle. It had rather seemed that the child 
never had time. She was always flying from one 
project to another, gay as a bird, and apparently 
as thoughtless. She certainly was the last one of 
all the young people whom her aunt, or any other, 
would have selected as likely to do the peculiar 
Melville any good. 

“ Abry-ham ” came promptly, glad to be of 
use. His fatherly heart had been touched by the 
heroism with which Octave bore the setting of 
her broken bones and injured muscles ; and even 
before that he had been won by the frank friend- 
liness of the “ young lady,” who was said to be a 
very rich person as far as money went. 

Now, there is nothing that the uncultured mind 
so greatly regards as money; and the airs which 
Paula manifested were accepted as natural and 
appertaining to her station in life. If he had 
thought about the matter at all, Abraham would 
have considered that he should have done the 
same as Paula did under similar circumstances ; 
but, even so, he found Octave’s simpler ways and 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Ill 


equality of manner preferable. He would never 
stand in awe of her as he did of her elder sister, 
but he would do what was far better, — he would 
love her. 

There was pleasure in his honest eyes because 
he had been summoned to do this service for the 
injured girl, and the ring of affection in his voice 
as he entered with his cheery, “ Jehuwhittaker ! 
This is how ye make things spin, is it? Don’t 
make no more o’ breakin’ a bone er two ’an some 
folks does o’ prickin’ their finger ! Wal, I hope 
ye ’ve counted the cost, afore ye set sail ter keep 
house along o’ Melville. He ’s a critter ’at likes 
his own paddock, an’ no interference, I tell ye. 
Ye ’re brave enough ter tackle a team o’ wild 
bosses, but ye better think twict afore ye tackle 
Melville Capers.” 

“ I don’t dare think twice, Mr. Abraham ; I ’m 
going right quick, while my first courage lasts. 
Now don’t you or Aunt Ruth say another word, 
but just wheel ahead ! I ’ll shut my teeth hard 
and not groan once, if you do hurt me.” 

But the well-oiled castors of the little bed ran 
smoothly, and the wide doorways and corridors 


I 12 


MIXED PICKLES. 


seemed especially made for moving beds about, 
so Octave fancied ; and in a few minutes the 
passage to Melville’s sitting-room was made, his 
door opened, and Octave’s* narrow couch pushed 
in. 

The cripple was so astonished that he almost 
sat upright. ‘‘ What in thunder ! ” he exclaimed. 

“ Good afternoon ! ” said Octave, merrily. 

What does this mean? ” 

“ That you are not very civil.” 

Octave made a significant gesture, and both her 
smiling, anxious attendants withdrew to an invis- 
ible distance, leaving the two bed-ridden cousins 
to stare one another down. 


CHAPTER X. 


From that silent contest of wills Octave came 
out conqueror. There was no resisting her 
merry audacity, with its underlying principle to 
strengthen it, and Melville was the first to speak. 
He did so in his own peculiar fashion, and his 
cousin answered after hers. 

To her surprise, he did not make himself half 
so disagreeable as she had expected. It may be 
that he, too, felt drawn to the high-spirited girl 
whose whole life was such a contrast to his own ; 
or it may be that his heart was softened by the 
reports from the apartment of his grandmother, 
whom he had really loved in his own selfish fash- 
ion, even though he had tormented her in so 
unmanly a manner. Then, too, there was sound 
common-sense at the bottom of his nature, and 
he could but see that it was an impossibility for 
even energetic Aunt Ruth to look after three in- 
valids in as many separate places. 

With Grandmother Amy thrown in for good 
measure,” concluded Octave, quietly. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


II4 

Twenty-four hours proved the experiment a 
success, and another twenty-four made Melville 
wonder how he had ever managed without this 
new companion, though she did scarcely one 
thing he desired her to do. 

“ You Ve been coddled and babied till you 
are n’t half a boy, Melville Capers ; and a good 
thing it is for you that your grandmother is sick 
and I have come to take her place. Not a bit of 
coddling you ’ll get from me, so you need n’t look 
for it ! ” 

If he fretted, she laughed. If he read senti- 
mental or melancholy poems, as he was given to 
doing, she repeated Mother Goose. If he praised 
Dickens, she lauded Scott. If he complained of 
his cruel portion in life, she ridiculed him and 
told him it was his own fault. 

“ What do you mean?” he demanded, after this 
last seemingly heartless assertion. 

“ Why, I heard Aunt Ruth say that, if you had 
not been so afraid of trying heroic treatment 
when you were little, you might have been cured. 
Even when you first came here, and that is only 
three years ago. But you cried, and ‘ could n’t,’ 


MIXED PICKLES. 


II5 

and your poor grandmother loved you so she 
^ would n’t/ and so you have no one to blame for 
a wasted life but your own cowardly self.” 

“ Octave Pickel ! You are rightly named.” 

“ I think so. My family is an honorable one.” 

“ But you are Pickel by name and the sourest 
kind of a pickle by nature.” 

“ Sharp, not sour. That is, none too sour. It 
does n’t do to have everything sweet — like you.” 

‘‘ I hate you ! I want you to go out of this 
room.” 

I can’t. The doctor forbids me to walk, or 
even try.” 

Melville fixed his eyes upon her face in a long, 
questioning gaze. Then he gave a great sigh — 
which was almost a sob. Octave’s own look did 
not falter, and out of the depths of her warm, 
wholesome heart she echoed the sigh. 

Well, and how — how do you like it?” Mel- 
ville’s question came bitterly, fiercely. 

Octave’s merry eyes filled with a sympathy that 
the boy could not fail to see was wholly genuine. 
“ Cousin Melville, I do not like it at all. I can 
hardly bear it, even for these few days or weeks I 


MIXED PICKLES. 


1 16 

shall have to endure it ; and I cannot bear that 
you should submit to it so tamely. You must 
not — you shall not! ” cried the girl, excitedly. 

She understood perfectly, with the electric per- 
ception of youth, that the cripple had compared 
her temporary helplessness with his own, which 
he supposed incurable. She had been longing to 
have just this subject come up between them, for 
down in her heart she had hidden a daring 
thought. 

The thought had been caused by a talk with 
her Uncle Fritz ; which, however, that soft-hearted 
man had little intention should bear just such 
fruit. 

He had said that he believed the boy could be 
helped, or that he could have been, by a difficult 
and painful operation which a celebrated surgeon 
of his own country, now inspecting the American 
hospitals, had once successfully performed. 

The thought had come like a flash to Octave 
then and there ; and, with a minuteness which her 
fond uncle thought an admirable thirst for knowl- 
edge pure and simple, she had questioned him 
of the operation in all its details. Now, Mr. Fritz 


MIXED PICKLES. 


II7 

Pickel always protested that a famous surgeon 
had been lost to the world when his father had 
apprenticed him to business; and it was his 
recreation, still, to “ walk the hospitals ” with his 
many friends among the doctors, and he would 
grow most enthusiastic over any difficult or par- 
ticularly “ beautiful ” case which they reported to 
him or allowed him to see. 

So he fell innocently into Octave’s little trap, 
and the girl was now fortified with all the informa- 
tion she required. The opportunity she craved 
had come, and, though she trembled a little, she 
improved it. 

Melville had naturally asked, What do you 
mean? ” 

“ I mean that, according to my Uncle Fritz, you 
are not what you think, — incurable.” 

“ The best physicians in the country have said 
I am ! ” cried the lad, mournfully. 

“ There is a better than the best, and he is ' in 
the land ’ now, if you will see him.” 

“Who sent you in here to distress me like 
this?” 

“ My love for you.” 


ii8 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Your love ! A pretty way you take of show- 
ing it ! ” 

I think it is the best way, Cousin Melville.” 

“ It is cruel to raise false hopes like that.” 

“ Pooh ! Are you any worse off for hearing 
about this great surgeon? If you are so in- 
different to yourself that you will not endure a 
little suffering to be made well, you are certainly 
too small-minded to be very greatly hurt ; and if 
you are willing, isn’t it love for you that has 
prompted me to find out all about it, and tell you ? 
I thought I ’d sound you first, yourself, because it 
all rests with you. Then, if you had any sense, I 
would get Uncle Fritz, who is as wise as the 
wisest where surgery is concerned, to tell you 
everything he knows. He doesn’t know that I 
am going to talk with you, nor anybody ; and no 
one need know if you do not choose differently.” 

“ Octave, if I were never so willing, Grandmother 
Capers would never allow it.” 

“ No, Melville ; I know that. But — why hide it? 
You know, you must know, what the others all 
think, that dear old Mrs. Capers is just slowly 
and gently dying. She cannot live very long to 


MIXED PICKLES. 


II9 

wait upon you, even if she gets up from this 
strange sickness which nobody understands ex- 
actly, and I should think you would like to change 
places and do a few things for her, who has done 
so many for you.” 

Poor Octave had been sorely troubled by Mrs. 
Capers’s illness. All the household had reassured 
her again and again that she was mistaken, but 
she could not help fancying that her little 
brother’s encounter with “ the Witch of Endor ” 
had something to do with his victim’s fading 
away. And, since she could do nothing for her 
personally, she longed beyond telling to help the 
grandson who was more to the doting old heart 
than its own life. After she ceased speaking the 
cousins lay each very quiet for a long time. 
Octave was frightened by her own temerity, now 
that the deed had really been done ; and in Mel- 
ville’s breast hope and despair surged up and 
down tumultuously. 

So occupied, indeed, were they with their own 
thoughts that they did not perceive the entrance 
of a frail little figure of a woman, which glided 
softly in its old familiar way to the foot of Mel- 
ville’s lounge. 


120 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“What is that, my darling, about your being 
cured ? ” said a pathetically feeble voice, so sud- 
denly that both the hearers started violently. 

Mrs. Capers had seated herself on the lounge, 
but so weakly and tremblingly that the others 
expected to see her fall. Octave half slipped 
from her low bed, forgetting her own injury in her 
eagerness to support the tottering old lady ; but 
she was arrested as much by the words which fol- 
lowed as by the exquisite torture of her injured 
ankle. 

“Melville, I have heard the whole talk. I — 
I am going to die — as this young girl says. I am 
not sorry, except for you ; and now I am not 
sorry at all. I could not bear to see you suffer 
any more, or to endure — an operation, — even 
though it might cure you. I love — I love you 
too well. But, when I am gone, I want you to 
try it, if — if you have the courage. There will 
be money enough, plenty of money to pay any- 
thing this great doctor asks. Promise me, dar- 
ling; that is, if — you don’t mind, if you wish 
to, that you — will see this surgeon. I shall die 
happy then.” 


MIXED PICKi^ES. 


I2I 


The sick woman’s long speech, and her eager- 
ness to utter it, exhausted her. Appalled by the 
unexpected effect of their own words, the chil- 
dren gazed at her in helpless silence. But sud- 
denly, upon the wan features turned so anxiously 
toward Melville, there came a change which even 
his inexperienced eye was swift to interpret. 

With a strength born of excitement, — or given 
by God, — he forced his useless body downward 
upon the lounge until he could clasp and hold his 
grandmother’s head against his breast. 

Then a rapture, born of her great love for him 
and of her gratitude for his unwonted tenderness, 
illumined the aged face : “ My darling — my 
darling ! ” she cried faintly. And, as if over- 
weighted by happiness, the white lids closed above 
the faded eyes which had looked for so little in 
this world. 

For a long time the stillness remained unbroken. 
Then a groan burst from the lips of the lad who 
had held a great love lightly — till it was lost. 


CHAPTER XI. 


“ Yes, that is what she needs ; it is the only 
thing.” The doctor said this very firmly and 
gravely ; but quiet as his words were they set the 
impetuous heart of Ruth Kinsolving in a fever of 
anxiety. 

I am sure thee is hiding something from me, 
Doctor Winslow ; and I wish thee to tell me the 
worst. If my mother is — is going to follow 
Margaret Capers, I — I must know it.” 

“ She is not going to follow her, if you do as I 
say. Take Mrs. Kinsolving away at once to the 
sea-shore, or to some restful place, where she can 
have a complete change of air, and as little dis- 
turbance of her habits, otherwise, as possible.” 

Aunt Ruth looked up searchingly ; but seeing 
nothing in the familiar face of their old physician 
to warrant her dreadful fear, her thoughts turned 
at once to a lesser trouble. It was all very well 
for Doctor Winslow to say, Go away to the sea- 
shore,” but how was this apparently simple matter 
to be accomplished? 


MIXED PICKLES. 


123 


The death of Mrs. Capers left the invalid Mel- 
ville entirely dependent upon his aunt’s care. 
His grief had been profound and prostrating ; for 
that sorrow is always keenest which has self- 
reproach as a factor ; and though a fortnight had 
elapsed since the quiet funeral, its influence still 
hung, pall-like, over the house. 

Octave was better ; but she could not yet put 
her injured foot to the floor without great suffer- 
ing ; although the broken arm was mending fast, 
and gave the self-helpful girl little trouble. It 
was astonishing how much she could accomplish 
with that deft left hand of hers ; and she laugh- 
ingly declared she had been gifted with her power 
to use it as others use their right, expressly for 
this time of need. 

Mr. Pickel had been obliged to leave them, or 
lose entirely the business opportunities which had 
brought him all the way from Germany, and which 
he was ambitious to improve “ on his children’s 
account.” It was all for the children — his care, 
his life, his love ; and Ruth Kinsolving could not 
live for so many days in the society of this unself- 
ish man without catching something of his spirit. 


124 


MIXED PICKLES. 


From an unwelcome burden, she had also come 
to regard her sister Lydia’s family as a sacred 
charge; and, as each girl of the group resolved 
herself into a distinct individuality, the aunt’s 
interest increased. She grew almost morbidly 
anxious lest she should fail in her “ duty ” to one 
or other of the orphans. 

How, then, was she to leave them with only a 
servant to look after them ? 

Perplexed and troubled, she returned after the 
doctor’s visit to her mother’s room, and one keen 
glance into the tired eyes of the sweet old lady 
settled the matter for her. Her mother was more 
to her than all the orphans in the world. Her 
mother was drooping sadly, overcome, the doctor 
thought, by a burden of care she should not have 
assumed, and shocked and broken by the death 
of her old friend, Margaret Capers. 

It seemed that turmoil and confusion had come 
to The Snuggery only with the coming of the 
Pickels. Well, she would leave them the house, 
and they might tear it roof from rafter, for all she 
cared at that moment; she would do her duty by 
her mother, let come what would come ! 


MIXED PICKLES, 1 25 

Her energetic movement aroused Grandmother 
Kinsolving’s curiosity. 

“What is it, daughter? ” 

Ruth intended to be very prudent and announce 
her plan in the least startling manner, but she was 
far too impulsive and too much in earnest to do 
this successfully. She tried, beginning two or 
three sentences in a temporizing fashion, and 
ending with an outburst of tears : 

“ The doctor says that thee is ill, so ill that I 
must take thee to the sea-shore. Tell me, dar- 
ling mother, that it is not so very, very bad ! ” 

Amy Kinsolving smiled. To Ruth there was 
nothing so beautiful as her mother’s smile, and 
that it still was left to cheer her went far toward 
calming her anxiety. 

“ The doctor is right, Ruth. I am a little worn 
and tired by this upsetting of our quiet life ; but 
a few weeks away from it will give me strength to 
face the winter without being an added burden to 
thy weary shoulders. Thee needs the rest as 
much as I do. Thee takes things too much in 
earnest, and frets thyself over imaginary short- 
comings. We will go away and leave the ‘ little 


126 


MIXED PICKLES. 


pickles ’ to look after themselves, under Rosetta 
Perkins’s direction.” 

Since her mother took the proposition so 
quietly, and answered so cheerfully, Ruth’s 
anxiety flew round to another side of the subject. 
“ Rosetta Perkins ! A pretty woman she is to 
have the care of such a houseful of young peo- 
ple ! ” 

She is an excellent cook.” 

Mother Amy ! What has that to do with 

it?” 

“ More than thee thinks. Thee worries over 
the children’s minds and morals, and that is well 
enough in a way, but if their bodies are healthy 
and sound, they may be safely trusted to do 
pretty nearly right. They come of good stock.” 

Ruth was speechless with amused surprise. 
Such words seemed like heresy on the lips of the 
saintly Amy ; but they had the effect of checking 
her own anxiety and of assuring her that her 
mother was not so dangerously ill as she had 
feared. 

I suppose we can trust Content to keep things 
straight, under Rosetta,” said Ruth, so merrily 


MIXED PICKLES. 


127 


that her mother’s heart lightened. If Ruth had 
been worrying about her, she had also been 
worrying about Ruth ; and, when matters reach 
this stage between two people, it is time that 
somebody else stepped in and set them at ease. 
Good Doctor Winslow had done so by his pleasant 
prescription ; and, already, in less than five 
minutes after he had given it, its beneficent effects 
were evident. The sea-shore trip had become a 
matter-of-course; what was the house to worry 
about, more than a house ? And as for the chil- 
dren, how could they go far astray in that peace- 
ful abode? 

Content shall have her share of the task ; but 
Paula is the elder. Paula must be prime minis- 
ter,” said Grandmother Kinsolving. 

“ Paula, mother? Paula is no more fit to be 
set over the others than — than I am ! ” 

It will make a vast difference to the girl 
whether she is put in authority or whether she 
assumes it. Paula will do right ; thee may de- 
pend upon it.” 

Mother Amy, thee is either a very foolish or 
a very wise woman.” 


128 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ Daughter Ruth, I have lived long. The years 
should teach me something.” 

“ And thee is not afraid to put that maid of 
airs and graces to rule in thy stead?” 

“ Not one whit afraid.” 

“ Humph ! I wash my hands of the responsi- 
bility ! ” said Ruth, half-laughingly, half-seriously, 
and tossing those same shapely hands upward in 
a deprecating fashion. 

“ Do that really, my daughter ; cease ‘ carrying 
coals to Newcastle,’ and thee will find life a better 
thing. Thee is a good ‘ Martha,’ but thee remem- 
bers about ‘ Mary? ’ ” 

‘‘Thee is the ‘Mary’ of this household, sweet 
mother. Thee has always had ‘ the better part.’ 
I will try to learn of thee.” As she said this, 
the daughter stooped and kissed her mother’s 
cheek ; then she went swiftly out of the room, in- 
tent upon setting things in readiness for her con- 
templated absence. 

Ruth Kinsolving found always her best antidote 
for anxiety in activity ; and so promptly did she 
settle all the details of the household manage- 
ment during Paula’s and Rosetta’s reign, that she 


MIXED PICKLES, 


129 


was ready on the next morning to start with her 
mother for that vacation of rest they both needed. 

The group of young folks who watched their . 
carriage out of sight felt for a few moments a 
sense of desolation which even Paula’s pride in 
authority, or Content’s serenity, could not banish. 

“ Oh, dear ! I feel — I feel so lumpy, and kind 
of sick inside,” said little Fritz, dropping his head 
on Christina’s shoulder ; “ I don’t see what makes 
folks go away all the time.” 

Let ’s all go into Melville’s room and be 
miserable together,” said Content, trying to 
smile, yet finding the tears interfering ; “ I think 
I heard Octave say that Melville had had a letter 
from your Uncle Fritz.” 

To the little Pickels, that was a name “ to con- 
jure by”; and with a quick change of sentiment, 
they rushed pell-mell into “ the lion’s den.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


I TELL you, you must do it ! ” 

I won’t ! ” 

There was considerable “ substance ” in each 
voice. Melville, however, had the advantage of 
years and his terrible “ roar,” which, even accus- 
tomed as he had become to it, Fritzy never heard 
without a little tremor. 

The child stood at a safe distance from the in- 
valid’s lounge, and held in his hands a worn 
and scraggy old cat. “ I say she is my very own, 
’cause I found her. She ain’t yours, nor she ain’t 
grandma’s. They sha’n’t nobody touch a bit of 
her. She’s mine.” 

“ In the interests of science, Fritzy,” said Mel- 
ville, changing his tone. 

“ Don’t care nothin’ about the int’rusts of 
science ; my cat is my own.” 

“ I ’ll buy her of you.” 

“ Don’t want to sell her.” 

Fifty cents will get an awful lot of taffy.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


31 


“ There ain’t any shops on Deer Hill.” The 
change in tone told that Fritz’s obstinacy was 
weakening. He looked down speculatively at the 
disreputable-appearing animal in his arms. She 
was a cat of many battles, and many droppings.” 
By this last method do the soft-hearted country- 
folk pass on to their neighbors the nuisance which 
has become intolerable to themselves. There are 
tramp cats as well as human beings ; and if the 
“ Marm Puss,” which was losing her breath under 
her captor’s tight squeeze, could have told the 
tale of her life, it would have harrowed the soul 
of the boy so that even taffy ” would have been 
powerless to tempt him. “ Marm Puss ” had 
tumbled out of a bag at The Snuggery gate that 
very morning, brought thither by a boarding- 
house mistress from whom grimalkin had stolen 
various bits of food. 

“It’s a good place,” said the boarding- 
mistress, furtively watching the cat scamper barn- 
wards after her liberation. “ These folks are 
Quakers, and they keep cows.” Then she had 
hurried away, lest her unneighborly action should 
be discovered, and thinking herself very kind 


132 


MIXED PICKLES. 


because she had not killed the animal outright 
instead of “ dropping” it. She little dreamed for 
what a fate she had reserved it. 

“ It ’s an unhappy old thing. It would rather 
die than live.” 

“Pooh! Would you?” 

“ No ; but then, I am a man.” 

“ You ain’t I You ’re a boy, same ’s I am, only 
bigger. If it was your cat, would you sell it? ” 

“ Yes, for a quarter ; and I ’ve offered you fifty 
cents. I ’ll make it seventy-five if you will chloro- 
form her for me, and help me with the whole 
business. But you could n’t ; you ’d have to blab.” 

“ I would n’t, neither. I never blabbed in my 
life. I never told nothin’ when I said I would n’t. 
Ask Fritzy Nunky, when he comes.” 

“‘Fritzy Nunky’ would like to have you do 
this for me ; he ’s scientific himself He would 
have been a great surgeon ; have n’t you heard 
him say so ? ” 

“What’s that to do with this old cat?” 

“ Come here and I ’ll tell you.” 

“You won’t grab her ’thout I say so? an’ you 
won’t hit me? ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


133 


“ Not a grab, not a hit,” replied Melville, im- 
pressively. He was ostentatiously taking out of 
a purse three shining quarter-dollars. Then he 
turned them over and over so that their alluring 
glitter fell squarely upon little Fritz’s sight. He 
was not in the least a mercenary child. Quarter- 
dollars for their own sake might have been spread 
before him in piles, and he would not have coveted 
them. But quarter-dollars for “ taffy’s ” sake — 
Ah ! that was another matter. 

“ If you was a-going to buy it, where would you 
go ? ” he asked, slowly. ' 

“ To Mrs. Duncan’s thread-and-needle store, in 
the village.” 

“ Pooh ! I know better,” retorted the victim of 
temptation ; “ you go to candy shops for candy.” 

“ True ; this is n’t a city like Munich, or New 
York, where you staid that week before you came 
here with your Uncle Fritz. Up here in the 
country they keep everything in one shop.” 

“ Every what thing?” The questioner’s tone 
was still doubtful. 

“ Why, just — everything. I can’t make it any 
plainer, ‘ Abry-ham ’ buys his shoes there, and 


134 


MIXED PICKLES. 


his wife her dresses. Grandmother gets her milk- 
pans there, and there is a candy counter.” 

How do you know? You ain’t never been 
there.” 

“ Content has ; she told me, and I ’ve heard it 
in dozens of ways. I know it, sure.” 

Fritzy considered Content a responsible per- 
son, if there was one anywhere. Her testimony 
seemed conclusive, but he had not yet exhausted 
the subject. Do they keep fish-hooks? ” 

“ Fish-hooks, and rods, and — everything.” 

“ How would you go? ” 

“ If I were you, and had seventy-five cents to 
spend? ” 

“Yep,” answered the younger cousin, fixing 
his eyes anew on the quarter-dollars, and roughly 
estimating how many fish-hooks and how much 
“ taffy ” they represented. 

“ I ’d harness my pony to the cart, and I ’d 
drive down the mountain like split. But, first. 
I’d help my poor cousin to learn all about 
anatomy.’^ 

“ What ’s a * natomy ? ’ ” 

“What’s a boy but a living interrogation 


MIXED PICKLES. 


135 


point ! Come ! I ’m not going to argue all day. 
If you want the seventy-five cents, and the taffy, 
and the fish-hooks, and any other thing you 
happen to see, why, now ’s your chance. If you 
don’t, all right. I can hire Luke Tewksbury to 
help me. He ’d do it for a quarter, and throw in 
a kitten to bind the bargain.” 

Fritz’s own truthfulness made him accept this 
statement literally. The silver in his cousin’s 
hand assumed larger proportions ; and the sud- 
den remembrance of how long it was since he 
had really tasted taffy overcame his last scruple. 

“ I ’ll do it ! ” he said, heroically, yielding the 
now drowsy object of barter to his cousin’s grasp. 
A slight misgiving as he did so died when he 
saw how contentedly the creature curled herself 
down upon Melville’s luxurious cushions. 

“ She looks as if she liked you, a’ready,” said 
the little boy. 

“ Of course she does. She is a self-denying 
animal, who is glad to die for science’s sake.” 

Fritz did wish that Melville would not use that 
unpleasant word “die” so frequently. When- 
ever he heard it he did n’t like to look at “ Marm 


136 MIXED PICKLES. 

Puss/' Seeing this, the elder boy hastened 
matters. 

Go to that closet there. Open the door, and, 
on the right-hand corner of the lowest shelf, you 
will see a big bottle with a glass stopper. A 
blue bottle. — Find it?" 

“Yep.” 

“ Bring it, then ; and hurry up. First, go and 
lock both doors.” 

“What for?” 

“ See here, youngster, you quit that ‘ what for ’ 
business. I have n’t time to answer any more 
questions, and now you have sold yourself to me 
you can’t go back on your word. All you ’ve 
got to do is to obey. I ’ll take all the responsi- 
bility. You lock those doors, so that the med- 
dling girls can’t come in. Girls always want to 
poke their noses into boys’ business, you know.” 

It gratified Fritzy to think that he was “ boys,” 
having been accustomed to consider himself just 
“ little Fritz.” He went obediently to the two 
doors, and fastened each. Then the windows; 
for Melville was deterniined to make sure of no 
interruption. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


137 


When that was settled satisfactorily, he took 
off the pretty cover of a big down pillow, and 
drew it cautiously over the unsuspecting cat’s 
head. Tired with many wanderings, she did not 
in the slightest resist; especially as Melville’s 
touch was soft and caressing, deluding not only 
the four-footed victim but the little traitor who 
had sold her unto death. 

Now, Fritz, you go to that other closet beside 
the chimney. Take out some of the books that 
are on the floor, and fix the latch so it works all 
right. Can you shut it tight? ” 

“ Tight as a drum ! ” 

Put the bottle in there, and get the cork all 
ready to take out, but don’t you take it out yet.” 

“I’ve done that. What next?” Fritz was 
too genuine a boy not to have entered into the 
spirit of this dark transaction by that time. His 
blue eyes were big with importance ; his cheeks 
glowed ; he whistled softly to himself. 

“Next is — the job itself. Now, you must 
understand clearly. If you don’t, it ’ll be a 
fizzle. I’m half sorry I didn’t get somebody 
bigger to help me. ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


138 

The tone and the words put Fritz on his mettle. 
“ I ’m big enough to kill a old cat, I reckon ! 
If I ain’t, I should like to know ! ” 

‘'Remember, it won’t hurt her. So, if she 
struggles, don’t you back out. ” 

“ I won’t, ” said Fritz, stoutly. 

“ Then, take the animal and fire ahead. 
When you get her into the closet, pull the 
stopper out of the bottle, open the bag and pour 
it in, and shut the door,” 

It all appeared very simple to the elder boy ; 
and even so in a less degree to his small assist- 
ant. But they had counted upon the non-re- 
sistance of. the victim. 

Now, it seemed as if she had heard their 
plotting, for all at once she sprung from the 
cushion-cover which served as her prison, and 
flew to the farthest corner of the big room. For 
an instant the two lads gazed after her in surprise 
that one who simulated submission so thoroughly 
should develop such a gift for self-preservation. 
Another instant, and Melville’s “ roar ” arose 
upon the air. 

“ You horrid little imp ! After all the money I 


MIXED PICKLES. 


139 

gave you, to let her go like that! I’d be 
ashamed to call myself a boy ! ” 

I did n’t let her go, she let herself go. But 
I ’ll catch her again, see if I don’t.” 

You can’t ! And I wanted to dissect her ! 
Your Uncle Fritz says there is no reason why I 
should n’t be a great doctor, even if his famous 
surgeon does n’t cure me. And how am I going 
to learn if I can’t trust anybody to help me ! I 
say it ’s too bad 1 ” cried Melville. 

The excitement of the chase, added to all this, 
acted upon the blood of little Fritz like flame 
upon gunpowder. His voice took on a tone 
which silenced the elder cousin’s complaints, and 
hushed him to watchfulness. 

“ You shut up a minute, so ’s not to scare her 
so, an’ I ’ll catch her again. I will, true as you 
live 1 ” 

Round and round the room, over chairs and 
tables darted poor “Harm Puss,” and Fritz 
behind her. He was almost as lithe as she, and 
even more determined. Twice they bounded 
across Melville’s lounge, but by then he had 
become himself so excited over the game that he 


140 


MIXED PICKLES. 


merely ducked his head aside, and said not a 
word. 

The chase ended with the victory in Fritz’s 
hands. The strength of the ancient animal was 
no match for his, and her spirit had long ago 
been broken. It had flamed up anew for a brief 
instant, but had died ignominiously, and she had 
not enough ‘‘ fight ” left in her to use her claws 
when she was finally captured and thrust, head 
foremost, into the bag. 

Into the closet Fritz rushed; and banged the 
pillow-cover with his victim on the floor. 
Grimalkin’s spirit might have been dead, but her 
voice was not. It was her voice which had been 
the cause of much of her unhappiness in life, and 
was destined to be her final undoing. She 
miauled so lustily that she angered her little 
captor, and made him unmindful of his cousin’s 
loud remonstrance. 

“ Come out of the closet, Fritz ! Come out of 
the closet 1 ” 

No notice was taken of the appeal. 

“ Oh, you little simpleton ! You must come 
out of the closet ! I did n’t tell you to go in and 


MIXED PICKLES. 


I41 

shut the door behind you ! Don’t open the 
bottle till you have come out.” 

The vigorous thumping of the bag and its 
contents upon the floor told that the tragic end 
had not yet been achieved, and the miauling 
continued so long that Melville did not observe 
when it at last grew less violent; though his 
entreaties to his little cousin were unceasing. 

“ O Fritzy, dear little Fritz ! Come out of 
it quick ! All the doors and windows are shut 
and I cannot help you ! Fritz — Fritz ! ” 

Melville paused to listen and to breathe ; but 
the sounds had all ceased behind that fast shut 
door, and the sickening odor which stole through 
the crevices told him that his cries had come too 
late. 

A moment later, and. his own consciousness 
seemed to leave him, as the terrible significance 
of his own work came full upon him. 


CHAPTER XITI. 


If Fritz had not heard the appeals which the 
frantic Melville made to him, they had reached 
other ears, and summoned the help which the 
crippled lad was so impotent to render. 

Rosetta Perkins, “ mistress of the interior,” as 
Octave called her when Aunt Ruth had reported 
her mother’s decision concerning the household 
heads, during the sea-shore sojourn, — Rosetta 
Perkins had come to Melville’s quarter of the 
house for the express purpose of hearing his 
capricious desires concerning his supper. 

Rosetta was conscientious in the discharge of 
her duties, and had already done more cooking 
than would have sufficed a family twice as large, 
in her fear lest these young charges of hers 
should not get enough to eat. Eat ! How they 
did eat ! All except Melville ; and because he 
did not, the good Rosetta was worried and full of 
self-blame. 

But, for the first time, his fitful appetite proved 


MIXED PICKLES. 


143 


a blessing, since it brought upon the scene, in 
their extremity of need, a person to rescue the 
two boys. 

“ To the land sakes ! What on airth is Mel- 
ville a-hollerin’ so fer ! ” 

Rosetta quickened her footsteps, but as the 
cries died for a moment, loitered for an instant 
to set straight a misplaced chair, and tidy the 
furniture which showed the careless fingers of 
youth. 

The cries, that were almost shrieks in their 
intensity of terror, recommenced. 

“Why, that ain’t spunk! That’s something 
worse ’an that I What can have happened to 
him I” Mrs. Perkins flew to the door, wonder- 
ing to find it closed, and rebounding, as she threw 
her force against it, from its unyielding surface. 
She tried the latch, and found the bolt had been 
slipped. The cries ceased again. 

“ I ’m a-comin’, Melville. I ’ll run around to 
the other door. ” 

Only to meet with fresh disappointment ; and, 
in her wonder and distress, Mrs. Perkins began to 
shake the door vigorously. “ Ain’t there nobody 


144 


MIXED PICKLES. 


in there with ye? How did ye get locked in? 
Never mind ; I ’ll get it open somehow. I warrant 
it ’s some o’ them childern’s pranks,” she added, 
under her breath. Then she tried the latch 
anew. 

She began to be seriously alarmed. She ran 
to the hall window, and saw Luke mowing the 
lawn. After repeated efforts, she made her voice 
audible above that of the noisy little machine so 
close to his ear. He looked up and saw her 
frantic motions even before he heard her 
summons. 

Luke had a soul above lawn-mowers, and 
always on the alert for excitement. He was at 
the hall window in a trice. 

“ Come into the house as quick as ye kin, 
Luke ! Melville’s doors is both locked fast, an’ 
he ’s been a hollerin like all possessed. Now 
he ’s stopped; but say — don’t you smell nothin’ 
kinder queer? ” 

Luke sniffed, and made up such a horrid face 
in doing so that Christina, who had appeared 
behind Mrs. Perkins, laughed. “What is the 
matter, Rosetta? Octave made me come and 


MIXED PICKLES. 


1 45 

see. She says somebody has been holloaing this 
ever so long, but I thought it was somebody out 
in the field.” 

“Then ain’t you ner Octavy in Melville’s 
room? ” 

“ Why, no ! Abraham carried Octave out to 
the hammock after dinner, and I have been with 
her.” 

“Where’s Content? An’ Pauly?” 

“ Gone to the post-office in the pony-cart.” 

“ Little Fritzy? ” 

“ I don’t know, I ’m sure,” answered poor 
Christina, her gentle face growing very pale and 
terrified. 

“ Then there ’s sunthin’ turrible to pay ! 
Smash that door open, Luke ! ” 

“ Smash the door? I dassent ! ” 

“ Smash it, I tell ye ! I ’ll bear the blame, if 
there is any ! ” 

Luke tried an ineffective blow, and Mrs. Per- 
kins grew more excited. “ Luke Tewksbury ! 
Smash it ! That there smell ’s chloroform ! I 
know it ; I kin almost taste it ! I hain’t handled 
the stuff as many times as I have, a-rubbin’ 


146 


MIXED PICKLES, 


Melville’s poor body, ’ithout lamin’ the smell. 
Sunthin’s happened to the bottle on it, an’ 
one, mebbe both, o’ them boys is shet up 
behind thet door ! Now — will ye smash it? ” 

A terrific blow of his mighty fist was Luke’s 
effective answer, and the panel gave way. 

With a swiftness and coolness one would 
scarcely have looked for in Rosetta Perkins’s case, 
since Ruth had called her a “ good woman with- 
out any head-piece,” the housekeeper thrust her 
hand through the break in the wood, and un- 
fastened the bolt. Every movement she made 
told in effect, as she almost flew across the apart- 
ment, dashed open the windows, drew the bolt 
and opened the bedroom door, and caught up a 
pitcher of water to throw it upon Melville’s face. 

The air was nauseous with fumes of the drug, 
but it was less that which had overcome the 
invalid than horror at his own deed, and its 
awful result. With the thought that little Fritz 
had been the victim of his would-be scientific 
experiment, his weak nerves had given way ; but 
his last conscious thought had been : Cripple 
or not, I must save him ! ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


147 


It seemed that the power of this determination 
was already bringing him out of his swoon, for 
the water had scarcely reached his face before 
he opened his eyes. Instantly they filled with 
terror. The closet ! The closet ! Open the 
closet ! ” 

“ What — which closet? ” asked RoSetta, trem- 
bling. 

“ Open it — open it, quick! Maybe he isn’t 
dead 1 ” 

Mrs. Perkins’s sight swam. The reality seemed 
worse than she had feared. But Christina had 
heard and understood the appeal, and flew to the 
inner door. 

‘‘The other — the other!” directed Melville’s 
agonized voice. 

Luke was beforehand with her, and even his 
strong physique was for an instant overcome by 
the pungency of the odor which filled his nos- 
trils. He staggered for a step or two, and then, 
as the little girl was darting forward, he put her 
gently aside and stooped down to lift the small 
figure, which the light now made visible, from its 
resting-place upon the closet floor. 


148 


MIXED PICKLES. 


There was one brief word of command : “ The 
doctor ” ; and Luke had flown to obey it. Then, 
forgetting utterly for that terrible moment the 
suffering boy upon the lounge, the housekeeper 
bore her inert burden straight out of doors, and 
to the old well in the garden. 

She could not have done better ; but she was 
still working and chafing the rounded little limbs, 
which had before seemed all too active, and pray- 
ing over her task with the devout fervor of her 
warm, believing heart, when Luke reappeared 
with the doctor. 

‘‘ Oh ! how glad I am ! I did n’t dream you 
would get here so quick ! ” 

“ I was just driving down the road. And well 
that I was,” added the physician gravely. 

It was three hours after that when he went 
away, even then promising to return again before 
midnight ; but, when he did leave The Snuggery 
for a brief time, it was with the hopeful assurance 
that if nothing unforeseen occurred,” the little 
fellow would be none the worse for his dangerous 
experience. 

“ Such a world of joy or pain hangs on that 


MIXED PICKLES. 1 49 

little ‘ if ! ’ ” exclaimed poor Paula, between her 
sobs. 

For once, Content’s ready word of comfort 
failed her ; and she could not utter that it is all 
for the best,” which seemed such a truism in the 
presence of this anxiety. She could see no 
“ best ” which might be extracted from that 
afternoon’s misfortune ; and she could only fold 
her sympathetic arms about the cousin whom, till 
now, she had thought so cold of heart, and let 
her tears mingle with Paula’s. 

It was the wisest and kindest thing she could 
have done. Paula had nourished a mistaken 
notion that her “ perfect Cousin Content ” con- 
sidered herself infinitely superior to the worldly 
and frivolous “ Miss Pickel,” whose main inter- 
ests in life appeared to be dress and the super- 
vision of her neighbors’ manners. 

The truth was simply that each girl was 
to the other a new and uncomprehended type. 
Octave had early nicknamed the one “ Beauty,” 
the other “ Duty ” ; and, unlike as they were, 
it took just such a sorrow to break away the 
outer form of habit and training, and show the 
warm, friendly hearts beneath. 


MIXED PICKLES. ' 


150 

The lonely, only child, Content, had become 
very fond of little Fritz, and the genuineness of 
her feeling touched the sister who watched so 
anxiously beside him. A half-hour of this com- 
mon grief did more to make them know and love 
each other than had all their previous weeks of 
daily intercourse. 

But the best ” was still in it all, even if hidden 
from si^ht just then ; and it was destined to work 
a blessed change not only in that household but 
in many another, to which its after effects should 
reach. 


CHAPTER XIV. 


For some days after this affair, the “ pickles ” 
remained quietly in their “jar,” as Octave 
laughingly called the great house, wherein they 
were all gathered at nightfall, no matter how 
widely they scattered themselves by day. 

Content had a fine camera, and considerable 
skill in using it ; so that on all possible occasions 
she was away over the mountains, taking “ views ” 
of this or that place, which her father had 
described to her as being dear to him in his 
boyhood. Bulky letters were regularly sent to 
Osaka, and in each there was some new glimpse 
of familiar scenes, which the missionary wel- 
comed eagerly. 

But this delightful occupation, as well as 
Paula’s “ art ” work, Christina’s lessons, and 
Melville’s “ experiments,” were discontinued 
while the child who was the “ life of the house ” 
remained drooping, and showing any effects of 
his accident. 


52 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Octave had nearly recovered the use of her 
nimble feet, and had, long before the doctor 
advised it, begun to use the broken arm. The 
one thing which was impossible to the active girl 
was quiet; and one morning she announced to 
the physician that her arm was mended better 
than the original,” and that she was going to 
‘‘ help Melville do up some beetles.” 

Christina was at that very hour assisting 
Rosetta to “ do up ” gooseberries ; and the 
difference in the choice of occupations showed 
perfectly the difference in the sisters. 

Doctor Winslow smiled. He had congratu- 
lated himself upon having kept his uneasy charge 
still as long as he had ; and, indeed, he would 
have found this far more difficult had not the 
condition of Fritz engrossed all their thoughts. 
However, that very morning the little fellow had 
come down to breakfast with the rest, and insisted 
upon it that “ Paula should stop making believe 
he was sick when he was n’t no such thing, so 
there ; and he was going out to have a tussle with 
Don.” 

“ ’T won’t hurt him a mite, ” remarked Rosetta, 


MIXED PICKLES. 


153 


when Christina had reported Fritzy’s daring 
proposal to her. “Thar ain’t ben nothin’ the 
matter with him, anyhow, ’cept his losin’ his 
senses. I ’ve ben a thinkin ’ this couple o’ days 
’at ye ’d all make the child sick with your cos- 
setin’ him an ’ feedin’ him trash. Let him try 
the donkey; he won’t get fur, ner overheat 
hisself a-ridin’.” 

So Fritz marched boldly up to the aged burro, 
and essayed to saddle him. All offers of aid in 
this matter had been haughtily rejected, and 
nothing could so easily have convinced them all 
that their darling was quite himself again as his 
amusing little swagger. 

“Pooh! Must think I’m nobody I Here I 
have been a-drivin ’ that mare of mine away 
down the mountain, and back ; an ’ you folks 
think I can’t saddle a silly old donk 1 Pooh I I ’ll 
show you 1 ” 

The show that he did afford them was certainly 
a funny one, though not of the kind the little lad 
himself intended. 

From his lonely room, Melville heard the fun, 
and distinctly recognized the voice of his small 


154 


MIXED PICKLES. 


cousin. The sound of it in happy activity again 
was sweet to his ears, for he had never ceased to 
regret his unintentional injury of the child. 
Octave had noticed this change more than any 
of the others, and wondered at first what “ had 
come over Melville to be so like other folks ” ; 
and, being of a nature opposed to secrecy, had 
promptly asked him. 

“ Well, I tell you. Octave ; I had a big scare. 
What if — no matter, he ’s all right again, you 
say ; and one thing I mean to do : I mean to 
think more about other people and less about 
myself” 

He had said this shamefacedly, as if he did 
not feel sure of himself, but did feel sure of her 
ridicule. 

It came swiftly on the heels of his confession. 

“ That 's all nonsense, Melville Capers. ‘ You 
are no saint, and you need n’t pose for one.’ You 
have worried everybody about you ever since 
you were born, and you will go on worrying 
somebody to the end. I don’t take any stock in 
your talk. You ’re a little scared over what 
you’ve done; but soon as Fritzy is all right 
again you’ll be just as disagreeable as ever.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


155 


“ You *re a hateful girl ! ” 

There ! I told you so ! Don’t, for goodness’ 
sake, — yes, for goodness ’ real sake, — don’t ever 
tell anybody that you mean to be ‘ unselfish.’ 
He or she won’t believe you, to begin with ; and 
if they suspect your intention they will watch you 
to see the miracle. Talk is the most inexpen- 
sive thing in the world. I used to tell how good 
I would be, and then Paula would fix her big 
eyes on me and stare, every time I did any mean 
little thing. Even Fritzy Nunky would put me 
all out by taking me at my word. He ’d look so 
surprised when I was n’t a saint right away quick. 
Then I ’d get mad, and the last state of that girl 
was worse than the first. If Content heard me 
quote that, she’d look at me in pious horror; 
and yet I mean it. No, Melville ; take the advice 
of one who has had experience, don’t lay that 
sweet unction of ‘ going to be ’ to your soul. 

‘ Going to be ’ never comes. It ’s like the poetry 
talk about ‘ there is no to-morrow.’ And there 
is n’t.” 

^‘Ancient maiden, what would you recom- 
mend ? ” asked the invalid, his anger disarmed 


MIXED PICKLES. 


156 

by finding Octave so promptly ready to embark 
in the same boat of shortcomings with himself. 

The only thing I have ever found amounted 
to anything was just keeping busy, as busy as 
busy ! If I keep doing something, I don’t have 
so much time to be bad.” 

“Yes, but” — objected the repulsed aspirant 
after unselfishness. 

“ Here, I ’ll roll your lounge over there by the 
window. Then you can see the fun. That ’ll be 
better for you than moping over your own 
‘ goings to be ! ’ ” 

Octave set to work ; but her arm was not so 
strong as she thought it, and her lame ankle in- 
terferred with her freedom of movement. Sud- 
denly she stumbled and sat down on the floor, 
“with a pretty conside’ble of a bang,” as Rosetta 
would have said. 

“ I ’m sorry. Octave. Don’t try again. I don’t 
mind.” The tone was so genuine that the girl 
opened her eyes which she had closed in a comi- 
cal grimace of pain. 

“ Why — why, Melville ! ” 

“ Why what? ” asked he, testily. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


157 


“ I believe you mean it ! ” 

“I — but you said something about talk being 
cheap.” 

“ Inexpensive, dear. I ’m trying to form my- 
self after an approved model, of polysyllables. 
Paula has really been so faithful to little Fritz 
that I thought she would be pleased with me if I 
was correct. She was n’t, though. When I put 
on my prettiest airs she looked at me and said, — 
as only Paula can say things, — ‘ Octave, don’t be 
foolish ! ’ It was a disappointment : but with 
your example before me I ’ll persevere.” 

The girl had rattled on in her nonsense talk till 
the pain in her ankle abated so that she could pull 
herself up, and make a fresh effort. Another burst 
of gayety sounded through the window, and, with 
a final push, she sent Melville’s heavy lounge 
rolling across the room, to bring up against the 
wall with a crash. 

“I meant to do it, ’er bust,’ as Abry-ham 
says. What do you think he calls me now? ” 

‘ Octavy — why, Octavy ! ’ promptly replied 
her cousin. 

‘‘Wrong! I am jiow ‘ Hoppity-pat.’ That’s 


158 


MIXED PICKLES. 


what I call making sport of one’s infirmities.” 
The girl perched herself upon the window-ledge 
and watched the scene out of doors with keen 
enjoyment, that was enhanced by the thought 
that her bed-ridden cousin could also witness it. 

Early in their acquaintance Fritz had tried 
cajolery with the ancient burro who lived at his 
ease on the rich pastures of The Snuggery farm, 
and had made many attempts to ride him ; but 
the overtures had not been met in a friendly 
spirit. Then Fritz’s temper had aroused. 

I will ride that homely old thing with a 
head as big as its body, so there ! He looks 
like grandmother’s old hair-trunk, up in the attic, 
with sticks for legs.” 

But appearances are often deceitful. Don’s 
look of dejection did not cover a meek or sub- 
dued spirit. He opposed his “ won’t” to Fritzy’s 
“ will ” with a persistence that was discouraging. 
On the boy’s part, however, fresh attempts were 
as persistently made ; and on this occasion 
seemed to promise success. 

Fritz had achieved a mount. He sat with fat 
little legs extending at right angles from the 


MIXED PICKLES. 1 59 

burro’s sides, trembling, but flushed with victory. 

Suddenly, Don raised his hind quarters. 

Fritz would have gone over the animal’s head 
but for the firm hold he had of his neck. 

Don tried sitting down. Fritz stood up, but 
still astride of the donkey, and still holding on 
with all his might. 

Then the quadruped turned his head and — so 
Fritz ever afterward believed — actually winked 
at his determined rider; immediately rising on 
all fours and setting off on a trot such as his 
venerable limbs had not attempted for years. 

Around and around the grass plot he raced, 
till all at once he appeared to collapse ; then he 
sunk down on the ground, rolled over on his side, 
and uttered a pathetic bray, as if his last hour 
had come. 

“ I did ! I did ! I did ride the old thing ! ” 
exulted the excited conqueror, and sped away to 
boast of his achievement to Abraham. 

After this amusing conclusion of the set-to 
between her little brother and his victim. Octave’s 
laughter was checked by an unmistakable sigh 
from the boy beside her. She looked quickly 
around. 


i6o 


MIXED PICKLES, 


Why, Melville ! What is it ? ” 

To think that I can never do anything that 
any one else can ! ’’ 

“Because you are to do that which nobody 
else can do.” 

Melville looked up eagerly; but almost in- 
stantly his eye fell again, and, with the gloom 
of hopelessness, upon the group without. 

“ Yes, it is so. I know it. I have thought a 
way out,” said Octave, answering his depressed 
look. “ I came in here to make you promise 
that you would try it.” 

“ I shall never try any more experiments after 
that experience.” 

“ Not with babies, of course. With a man of 
science you would.” 

“ How am I to meet a man of science, here 
on Deer Hill Mountain, and I a — cripple?” 
demanded the other, bitterly. 

“ Two ways are open : one, the poorest, by 
correspondence ; the other I can help you to if 
you will trust me,.” 

“ You ? ” said Melville ; and, in his sincere liking 
for Octave, he tried not say it contemptuously. 


MIXED PICKLES, l6l 

“Yes — I, young lord of creation; you think 
I don’t know anything, don’t you? Well, I don’t, 
much, and it does n’t matter, as long as I know 
enough to answer your purpose, and besides 
have the tremendous honor to be your — cousin ! 
However, I can yet do things to further your 
ideas. If I bring you this man of science will 
you talk with him, or will you be cantankerous? 
Mind you, I don’t do it just for you — but for 
the good of the world at large. I ’m a philan- 
thropist, in general. I always felt that I was 
‘cutout’ for something unusual; but I didn’t 
dream it was to be scientific till I became your 
assistant. Say, will you ? ” 

“You don’t know any man of science; and — 
he would laugh at my ‘ cheek.’ ” 

“All right. I ’ve always sighed for adventure, 
and now I shall have it. I feel like a conspira- 
tor — and it’s a perfectly exquisite sensation. 
Hurrah ! ” 

“ Octave Pickel ! Are you crazy? ” 

“ No. To prove it I will make you promise 
me something. I — I had a letter from Fritzy 
Nunky to-day.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


162 

The lad’s face changed color. Then he asked : 

“ Well, what did he say ? ” 

“ He is in constant correspondence with the 
doctor; and that gentleman hopes to see you 
within a month.” 

Octave’s voice, saying this, was very distinct 
and firm. It was what she had really come into 
the room to say, but after it was spoken she 
trembled. 

Melville lay with his dark eyes fixed on hers as 
if he could scarcely credit his own ears. He was 
terrified, and yet glad ; he depended upon her to 
stand by him, and yet he almost hated her for 
what she had done. All this Octave read with 
that keen intuition of hers, and if her face flushed 
a little her steadfast gaze did not cease to en- 
courage him. “ O Octave, have you really done 
it?’* 

“Really, Melville. The great doctor, the 
great healer, is surely coming.” 

“I — I cannot bear it ! ” Melville hid his face 
in his hands and a shudder passed over his thin 
frame. 

A feeling of contempt for his weakness rose in 


MIXED PICKLES. 


163 

the girl’s breast, but was quickly stifled. She 
forced herself to think of all he had endured^ and 
that he had never known the happiness of activity. 
She, herself, could bear anything, any amount of 
torture, to be restored to health, were she in his 
stead ; but Melville had suffered so much ! It 
was a sign that her own womanly nature was 
developing in the right direction that she did 
remember all this, and that her next words 
should have been as wise. 

“ You can bear it bravely. I know you are no 
coward. Besides, it will not be suffering to you, 
but success. Think, Melville ; you said the other 
day that you wished for nothing so much as fame. 
Well, then, if you are true to yourself in this, all 
the world will talk of you with wonder and grati- 
tude. Listen — this is my plan.” The girl 
pitched her voice too low for any possible over- 
hearing ; but what she said produced a marvel- 
lous effect upon her cousin. 

“ Oh, if it could be true ! But it is too 
grand, too wonderful ! ” 

“ You won’t be ashamed of poor ‘ Hoppity- 
pat,’ then, will you ? ” asked Octave, a bit wist- 
fully. 


164 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ It is nonsense. It will prove to be good 
for nothing.” 

“Come, you doubter. It’s about as hard to 
pull you up the hill of faith as — I don’t know 
what ! Did n’t our last experiment work ‘ as 
slick as grease?’ a la Abry-ham. Do you sup- 
pose I ’d have handled all those frogs and hop- 
toads, and nasty, slimy other things, if after the 
first time I had n’t had supreme faith in the — 
unnamable? ” 

Melville began to catch her enthusiasm. 
“ Octave, if — if — it should be true, would n’t it 
be glorious? ” 

“Wouldn’t it? The best of it is that I feel it 
is. ^ It ’s borne in on me,’ as Rosetta said when 
she forgot to put any sugar in the jam, and it 
would n’t jam. Say, Melville, let ’s just hurrah ! ” 

“ I can’t hurrah, yet. But, Octave, you ’re 
smart ! It does n’t seem as if you could be a 
girl, you think of things so.” 

“ So grandma said, when^I rode the kicking 
horse, bareback, and forgot to mend my stock- 
ings. Which was n’t ‘ thinking of things so,’ it 
seems to me. But, remember, if I am so bright, 
I shall expect my reward — ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 1 65 

‘ To the half of my kingdom ! ’ ” interrupted 
Melville. 

“ Humph ! Worse than that : you are not to 
tell a single soul, till the whole thing is settled. 
I ’d like, to be of some importance, for once in my 
life.” 

All right. I ’ll not breathe a single syllable.” 

“ Even if I do something you cannot under- 
stand?” 

‘‘ Even so.” 

*‘Good enough! Isn’t it delightful to be — 
conspirators ? ” 

** I don’t kn-ow,” said the lad, doubtfully. 

Pshaw ! I just believe you ’d like to let the 
cat out of the bag now ! ” 

“What difference would it make, any way? 
If I say I ’ll do it, I will. I won’t back out.” 

“It makes all the difference in the world to me. 
For once I ’m in a Mystery! Right in the very 
heart of it, spelled with a capital M ! Generally 
I ’m ‘ only Octave ’ ; now I ’m somebody. I 
have sighed all my life long for a romance or 
something out of the common ; now I ’ve attained 
it. Don’t balk me of my sweet revenge. Think 


MIXED PICKLES. 


1 66 

of Paula Pickel’s face when she hears that ^ only 
Octave/ was the very identical damsel that 
went — but no matter! Remember that without 
me there is no * man of science.’ ” 

Melville did remember ; and “ wild goosey ” 
as the whole affair did appear, even to him, he 
was so thoroughly in earnest, now, about it, and 
so uplifted by Octave’s adventurous spirit, that 
he readily maintained the silence she required. 

When, that night, at locking-up-time. Octave 
had not appeared, and Paula went to the room 
the sisters shared in common, hoping to find the 
wild-cap safe in bed, although the sheets had 
been turned down and then shaken, as if the well- 
grown lassie could by any possibility be hiding 
within them, there was great consternation in the 
household. 

She is always up to pranks, but she does 
not generally treat us unkindly,” said the 
aggrieved elder girl, feeling somehow that the 
house was not a ‘‘ Snuggery ” without the sharp- 
est of the pickles.” 

“ Oh, here is a note ! ” cried little Christina ; 
who sometimes read a love-story surrepti- 


MIXED PICKLES. 167 

tiously, and was akin to Octave in her desire for 
a “ romance.” I Ve heard Octave say lots of 
times that some time she ’d run away, and now I 
do believe she ’s done it ! Read it, quick ! I 
found it on her pincushion. That’s the very 
place run-awayers always put notes.” 

“ Pray, small one, how do you know that?” 
demanded Content, demurely. “ I believe you ’ve 
been reading Luke’s ‘ Story Paper’ again !” 

“ Well, read it any way, ” urged the little girl, 
in her excitement paying less heed than usual to 
Content’s gentle reprimand. 

This was the note, — 

Friends and Relatives, especially Paula; 

I ’ve gone, but not for good. I mean I have gone for good, as 
you will all know at some future to come. I have n’t gone yet, 
but I ’m going. I shall come to no harm, and you need not 
worry about me. When I return HE will be with me. That is, 

I hope HE will. HE will if my persuasions can prevail. I have 
money enough. Having none of my own, — as you all well 
know, I spent it for confections, — I have been supplied with 
funds by the OTHER CONSPIRATOR in the case. I do not 
know when I shall return, but I shall return; for I am the “ bad 
penny ” of the family. Don’t sit up nights, and don’t worry about 
me. I am all right, and I shall “ continner on.” Don’t be silly 
enough to write to Aunt Ruth, for even she would have no terrors 


i68 


MIXED PICKLES. 


for me, since I go to seek HIM. So don’t worry about me. 
Bother! that’s the third time I have written that perfectly 
unnecessary sentence, since she who writes is 

“ Only Octave.” 

P. S. I am in a perfect heaven of delight. I was never a con- 
spirator before, and I was never in a MYSTERY till now. I hope 
I can hatch up one every few days hereafter, it ’s so enchanting. 
Just think ! I, Octave Pickel, am a heroine ! 

Good-bye — farewell — addio ! 

When the note was carried to Melville, and his 
opinion asked, he burst into the merriest laugh 
that the astonished household had ever heard 
from him. 

I believe that you know all about it ! You 
two have been together a great deal of late. If 
you do, you must tell us. Where is Octave?” 
cried poor Paula, all in a tremble of fright and 
eagerness. 

But all the answer Melville gave, though he 
did it with the same unwonted mirthfulness was, 


“ I don’t know.” 


CHAPTER XV. 


The ways of cabmen are similar, the civilized 
world over ; and it did not confuse Octave as it 
would a less accustomed traveller to have a num- 
ber of these enterprising Jehus rush for her little 
hand-bag, as she emerged from the great station, 
and stood for a moment looking about her. 

She had been half over Europe in company 
with her Uncle Fritz, who never liked to journey 
anywhere alone, and who found the sturdy 
Octave his least troublesome “ pickle ” whenever 
he was minded to refresh himself with the pres- 
ence of any of them. Besides, the girl had the 
great gift of observation. If she had once seen 
a thing she never forgot it ; all its little details 
had impressed themselves upon her memory with 
the distinctness of a photograph. 

She had visited the great building where she 
had left the train but once before, and that once 
when, in compafty with her guardian, she had 
passed through it on her journey to Deer Hill. 


170 MIXED PICKLES, 

Yet so keenly had she observed her surround- 
ings, that she knew directly which way to turn 
for a certain kind-faced policeman, whom she 
had seen befriend a little girl while she was wait- 
ing for their outward-bound train. 

Now, to look for a particular policeman in a 
great city like New York would have seemed to 
an older person very much like looking for the 
proverbial needle in the hay-mow ” ; but to the 
adventurous and romantic Octave it appeared the 
simplest thing in the world. So, with a feeling 
of perfect security, she lightly moved away from 
the detaining cabbies, rigidly holding to the 
little satchel which contained a hair-brush and 
comb, and Melville’s well-filled pocket-book. 

Ah ! there he was, in almost the same place 
on the block where she had last beheld him. 
And, with the confidence of an old acquaintance. 
Octave walked straight to the officer and bade 
him a pleasant “ Good evening.” 

“ Good evening,” returned the gentleman in 
blue uniform, looking a little surprised at the 
unusual salutation. He was accustomed to be 
addressed as : “ Say, look here 1 Where is, or 
what is, so and so ? ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


171 

I want to go to Prof. Edric von Holsneck’s. 
Which is the best way, and will you get me a 
carriage ? ” 

“Eh? What? I didn’t quite ‘catch on,’” 
was the reply. 

Octave frowned. It was getting late, and she 
was anxious to get to her destination before it 
grew too dark for her to observe what Uncle 
Fritz called “ her bearings.” She had a wild idea 
of taking a night-train back to the mountain ; 
but if she should find that unadvisable she would 
have to look up a lodging place. 

“ I want to go to the house of Prof von 
Holsneck, ” said the girl, repeating her first 
statement with the distinctness known at The 
Snuggery as “ Octave’s spunk.” “ You certainly 
must know the residence of a man so famous.” 

“ Well, I don’t then. I know who he is and 
what he is ; but where he lives I never took the 
trouble to find out. Why do you want to go 
there? He is a big feller, too busy to be 
bothered.” 

Octave tossed her head with a movement of 
scorn, which she considered quite womanly. “ I 


172 


MIXED DICKIES. 


wish to see him on business. If — you don’t 
know anything about him, how am I going to 
find my way ? ” 

Easy enough. Look in the Directory. ” 

“ Where will I find the ‘ Directory ? ’ ” asked 
the girl, tapping her foot impatiently. 

“ In the drug store on the corner.” 

Octave’s eyes followed the glance of the police- 
man, and, thanking him, she made her way to the 
place and pursued her inquiries. Very speedily 
she had possessed herself of all the needed infor- 
mation, and set out to visit the great scientist. 
An older and a wiser person would have hesitated 
long before intruding upon one so fully occupied 
as Prof, von Holsneck ; but the girl had but one 
idea in her mind, and believed that the man she 
sought was the best one .in the world to help her 
to her object. Why, then, should she not go to 
him? To her it appeared the most natural way, 
when one was in need, to apply at head-quar- 
ters for the assistance required ; and she knew 
very well that in neither Europe nor America 
was there any one who could approach the pro- 
fessor in his special branch of knowledge. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


173 


But, simple as the affair appeared to her, it did 
not apparently strike others in just the same 
light. The trim and prim lackey who opened 
the door of the great mansion to the plainly 
dressed girl stared at her in a most disconcerting 
way. 

The professor was at home ; but the profes- 
sor was engaged in dining. The professor was 
not to be interrupted on any pretext whatever, 
when he was at table. Would she leave her 
card? This last inquiry with a supercilious 
sneer which, if anything had been needed to put 
Octave “ on her mettle ” would certainly have 
accomplished it. 

“ My card will be of no use, in this case. My 
business is personal; and I will come in and 
await the professor’s leisure.” She coolly moved 
forward into the vestibule, and, much as he would 
have liked to do so, the servant did not dare 
refuse her entrance. Nor was he wholly to be 
blamed for this reluctance. He knew, if she did 
not, that his master’s hours of recreation were 
few, and of labor many; and that each had a 
distinct and weighty money value. The lackey’s 


174 


MIXED PICKLES. 


business was to serve and save his employer, and 
in his eyes there seemed nothing which a chit of 
a girl, arriving in a cheap railway hack, could 
possibly want with the great man except to beg 
for something or other. 

“ Shall I wait here?” asked Octave, as the man 
allowed her to stand just within the entrance and 
made no effort to give her a seat. 

“ If you will tell me your business, I will see if 
you can have an audience; that is, when the 
professor has finished dining, ” replied the ser- 
vant, loftily. 

“ It would be impossible for you to understand 
my business, ” replied the visitor with a hauteur 
fully equalling Jeems’s own. And, as he stared 
at her afresh nor made any motion toward serv- 
ing her, she walked into the first room she saw 
open, and quietly sat down to await develop- 
ments. 

‘‘Well, I like this!” exclaimed the quick- 
tempered girl; “I wonder what Fritzy Nunky 
would say ! ” 

Then she began to look about her, and soon 
forgot the awkwardness of her situation, the late- 





One Painting Especially Captivated 
Her Attention. Page 175. 












r-r- 




'^**' ,Vv 


4 - > r 



MIXED PICKLES, 


75 


ness of the hour, and all the other disagreeable 
things which she should have remembered. The 
walls of the reception room were lined with pic- 
tures, and there was nothing which had so 
intense a fascination for Octave as a beautiful 
picture. She knew at a glance that these were 
such ; though she could not have told w^hy, save 
that they reminded her of those she had delighted 
in among the great galleries abroad, where she 
had so often gone with her Uncle Fritz. 

One painting especially captivated her atten- 
tion. It was an “ Interior ” of a German peasant 
home. In her childhood Octave had seen doz- 
ens just such homes, and in one of them she had 
passed some of the merriest days she could 
remember. 

Oh ! I do believe that was painted for a 
portrait of dear old Hans Schwartz ! And that 
is Gretchen with the baby — it really, really 
is ! Oh, who could have done that, and how 
did it come here? Good evening, Hans; hast 
thou the white cow already milked? And may 
I have some of the foaming liquid for supper? 
Gretchen’s brown bread would taste so good this 


i;6 


MIXED PICKLES, 


very minute. Give it, Gretchen, and I ’ll nurse 
the baby for you.” She had thought herself 
entirely alone when she entered the apartment, 
and she had forgotten everything else but delight 
at finding here a real — she was certain it was a 
real — portrait of some of her oldest friends. So 
thinking, she had not feared to talk aloud to 
them; and she was recalled to herself by the 
sharp surprise of hearing a voice close to her 
elbow. 

“You seem to be impressed with that picture.” 

Octave wheeled around, too unconscious of 
herself to be abashed. 

“ Oh, but I have been in that very kitchen — 
I surely have, and drank my milk out of one of 
those very earthen bowls ! I don’t know who 
painted it, or how in the world it came here and I 
came to see it, but that is Hans Schwartz’s cot- 
tage at Erding, where we children have passed 
three summers and had such fun.” Octave 
paused in her eagerness, recalled to the time and 
place by the striking of a clock somewhere near. 

The clear radiance of shaded electric lights 
suffused the apartment, which the girl now 


MIXED PICKLES. 


177 


observed was simply but elegantly arranged. 
For the first time a feeling of timidity stole over 
her, and a sense that she had intruded arose to 
trouble her. It might be that she had made a 
mistake ; if so, the only thing left for her to do 
was to get away as quickly as she could. She 
looked into the face of the old man who had 
spoken to her, and noticed with satisfaction that 
he was as simply attired and as every-day-like in 
his appearance as herself. 

“ Can you tell me, sir, if it would be possible 
for me to have a few minutes’ conversation with 
the gentleman who owns this house, — the great 
professor of chemistry, and — lots of other 
things? ” 

The old man smiled. “ On what subject, my 
child?” He did not disconcert her as the 
liveried servant had done, and, if he was surprised 
to see her occupying the great man’s gallery, and 
enjoying his pictures without leave or license, he 
was too kindly to say so. 

This dear old fellow is somebody’s grand- 
father, ” thought Octave, reminded by his gentle- 
ness of Grandmother Amy ; “ I wonder if he is a 


78 


MIXED PICKLES. 


sort of upper servant ; he looks as if he felt at 
home.” Aloud she said : — 

I had rather not try to explain it to any one 
except the professor, or to some one he will 
recommend, if he is too busy to see me. It is 
about a discovery that a boy made. I don’t 
understand it myself, but the boy wrote it all 
down on paper, and I have seen it act. I do 
hope he will see me, for I believe he would be 
interested, if he heard the whole story.” 

At that moment. Octave’s suspicion that her 
companion was somebody’s grandfather ” was 
confirmed. A merry little child ran into the 
room, and with a scream of delight that she had 
escaped her nurse’s hands, bounded upon the old 
man’s knee. “ O grandpa ! don’t let her take 
me to bed, will you ? I have n’t played you were 
a bear for three days ! ” 

“ Three days, is it, sweetheart? That is long 
indeed, for little people to remember. Maybe I 
will play bear, soon; just now I am busy. Go 
and tell the good honne that I wish you to stay 
up one half-hour longer; then you may come 
and sit upon my lap, and hear me talk with this 
young girl.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


79 


The child ran swiftly away, singing some- 
thing in French; and thereby puzzling poor 
Octave’s brain still more. A baby of three, 
possibly four, years old, who talked in excellent 
English and sang carols in French, was astonish- 
ing enough ; but not so greatly such as to be 
met at the entrance by pomposity in livery and 
find the interior, if far richer, as unpretentious 
as the living room at The Snuggery. 

Her puzzle was destined to increase. “ Now, 
my dear, if you will show me the papers, and tell 
me what you wish, I shall be happy to serve 
you,” said the old man, stroking his white beard 
and looking into her astonished eyes with the 
most encouraging of smiles. 

“You — you? Are you Prof. Edric von 
Holsneck?” faltered Octave. 

“ Yes. It was he you came to see ? ” 

“Yes, si-ir; but — but I — perhaps I had bet- 
ter go away. I did n’t think so at first, but now it 
seems like presumption for me to talk to — to you.” 
Try as she would, the girl could not reconcile the 
real professor with her preconceived notion of 
him. She had fancied a tall, stern, spectacled 


I80 MIXED PICKLES, 

person, in a laboratory, and with learning fairly 
oozing from his gaunt person. But this man, 
he might have been — anybody! 

“ There is no presumption in any honest 
person’s talking to any other. Evidently you 
thought you had something worth saying or you 
would not have taken the trouble to come and 
try to say it. I shall be glad to hear or read the 
matter you have in hand.” His manner, rather 
than his words, said also that he would be glad 
to do so at once, for wasted moments were a 
thing unknown in his day’s calendar. 

Octave became herself again on the instant. 
All her timidity vanished, and with the simple 
directness of manner which some found so charm- 
ing because it was so wholly natural and uncon- 
scious of self, she told him Melville’s story. The 
little grandchild came in, and, evidently ac- 
customed to be quiet when her grandfather so 
desired, nestled herself in his arms and lay there 
still, with her eyes fixed upon Octave’s face, and 
apparently listening closely to every word she 
uttered. 

“ The papers,” said Prof von Holsneck, when 


MIXED PICKLES. l8l 

she had related with lucid brevity all that had led 
up to Melville’s discovery. His eyes had gained 
in brightness and his whole manner had lost the 
look of age and fatigue it had worn when Octave 
first beheld him. Knowledge was to this man 
what a draught of wine is to some others. 

Swiftly Octave opened the closely guarded 
pocket-book, and gave the professor some sim- 
ple lines of writing, with odd looking formulae. 
To her, they were less intelligible than Greek; 
but to the gentleman they were a familiar lan- 
guage. Their meaning, also, appeared to have 
startled and delighted him ; for he suddenly laid 
down the sheets of paper and looked at Octave 
searchingly. “ Do you tell me that this was pre- 
pared by a boy of fourteen years? An invalid, 
and alone? ” 

“ I do. He has had good instruction until 
within the last six months, when the professor 
w'ho used to live on Deer Hill Mountain removed 
to the South. My cousin Melville cares for 
nothing so much as study, and he has had no 
chance to do anything else. I don’t know much 
about boys, but it seems to me he is awfully 
clever, is he not? ” 


i 82 


MIXED PICKLES, 


“ He is more. He is a genius.” 

“ And is the ‘ stuff,’ good for anything? ” 
“Time will prove, and some exhaustive ex- 
periments. It interests me. I will look into it. 
If you will give me your address, I will write to 
him.” Octave drew out her card, but, as she was 
about to hand it to her host, he said, “ How did 
you come here? With friends? ” 

“ I came alone, sir.” 

“ Alone ! Where shall you spend the night? ” 
“I — hoped to get through in time to go 
home, but I fear it is too late. Will you be good 
enough to tell me some hotel that is nearer the 
station than the Metropole? I want to get back 
as early in the morning as I can.” 

“ Do you know the Hotel Metropole? ” 

“ Yes, sir; we stopped there for a week when 
we came to America with Uncle Fritz. But it is 
a long way down, I think.” 

The great man looked at the girl who was but 
a child, but who seemed so little dismayed at 
hunting up a lodging place in a great city alone, 
and after dark. There was nothing bold in her 
manner, if there was perfect fearlessness — the 


MIXED PICKLES. 


83 


fearlessness of innocent ignorance. Then his 
eyes fell down upon the little grandchild in his 
arms. “ My dear young lady, you are too young 
to have done this thing alone, and I cannot let 
you go away to-night. You must remain with 
us.” 

** Oh ! sir, I did not dream of making myself 
such a trouble to you. I came only to find out 
for poor Melville if there was any thing in his 
idea, and I knew nobody could tell me as well as 
you. I could n’t bear to have him bothered by 
people who did not know exactly ; it will be such 
a glorious thing for him if he i*s right, and he 
could n’t bear suspense.” 

The girl’s flattering candor was pleasant to the 
learned man, for there is no one so wise but that 
he likes appreciation ; besides, the frank face 
pleased him in other ways, and he was minded 
to hear the history of the cottage she had recog- 
nized by its portrait on his walls. 

He touched a button, and the servant who had 
treated Octave with so much contempt appeared. 
“ Send away this young lady’s cab. She will 
pass the night here.” 


184 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Octave held out her purse, but the professor 
waived it aside. “ You are my guest. If I mis- 
take not, the most notable I have entertained for 
many a day.” The girl understood that he 
referred to Melville’s possible discovery, for the 
same eager light had come into the bright eyes 
of the scientist, and she felt no undue elation at 
his words. She, the messenger, was nothing to 
him but a messenger; and, with a funny little 
grimace at herself, she reflected that even in this 
most important transaction of her young life she 
was still “ only Octave.” 

“Why are you smiling, girl?” asked the 
grandchild, slipping her hand confidingly into 
the young visitor’s. 

“ At foolish thoughts, my dear.” 

The professor roused himself “ Have you 
had your dinner. Miss — ” 

“ Octave Pickel. No, sir ; but that is of no 
consequence.” 

“ It should be of the highest consequence to a 
growing girl. Run, little one, and ask grand- 
mother to have supper prepared for our guest. 
And Pickel, you said? The name commends 


MIXED PICKLES. 1 85 

itself to me. I am indebted to those of that 
name for many great kindnesses. It may not be 
the same family ; yet you recognized the Erding 
cottag^. Did you ever live at Munich?” 

It is my home, ” responded Octave, eagerly. 
“ The great publishing house of ^ Pickel & 
Pickel ’ — do you know that, too ? ” 

^‘Do I not? Since I am part of the 
Pickel.’ The head of the house is Fritz; and 
Franz, his brother, was my father.” 

The professor held out his hands in cordial 
greeting. “ Then, indeed, you are in the house 
of friends. Now, while the supper is made 
ready, tell me about the cottage the picture of 
which my son painted.” 


CHAPTER XVI. 


It was a most unexpected journey that the 
over-busy scientist took, on the following morning, 
with the young girl whose audacious appeal to 
him had resulted with so much success to her. 
That is, it would have been considered audacious 
by the hosts of anxious men who were always 
coming and going, eager to consult the professor 
on matters of grave importance; and obliged, 
many and many a time, to defer that consultation 
till “ a more convenient occasion.” She had not 
only made her own “ occasion,” but had not even 
dreamed that any formality had been necessary. 

As they neared the little station at the foot of 
Deer Hill Mountain, Octave’s overflowing spirits 
found voice. 

‘‘ Oh, I had such a lovely time ! I never had 
a pleasanter visit in all my life, and I do appre- 
ciate all that you and sweet Mrs. Professor have 
done for me. Uncle Fritz may be able to find 
some way of returning som€ of the kindness. 
But, there is something you don’t know.” 


MIXED PICKLES, 


I8; 


More than one among the passengers in the car 
recognized the fine head of Professor von Hols- 
neck, and pointed out the great man as a person 
to be seen once in a lifetime ; but to those who 
beheld him and had known of his mighty intellect 
alone, he was to appear in a new character. He 
might have been the simplest traveller of them 
all, journeying into green pastures along with a 
favorite grandchild, so unpretending and joyous 
was he. For, great as he was, — because he was 
so great, it may be, — he had learned the happy 
secret of being true to the nature God had given 
him, and of tossing aside care like a useless gar- 
ment, whenever he dared take time from his 
grave labors for a bit of rest. 

Octave found him as companionable as Fritzy, 
and far more so than Paula would have been on 
such a trip. Her tongue rattled from one sub- 
ject to another with humming-bird swiftness, if not 
with so much of grace. Professor von Holsneck 
found her infinitely diverting, and grew brighter 
and more rested as the distance lessened ; but it 
was not till they were almost ready to leave the 
train that Octave treated him to a full account of 


i88 


MIXED PICKLES, 


her “ running away,” and the puzzle she had left 
for her family to solve. 

But, my dear child, if you had told me that 
last night, I would have relieved their anxiety by 
a telegram.” 

“ Don’t you see ? I do not want it relieved. It 
is n’t every day I have a chance to do things out 
of the common, and you would n’t have had the 
heart to disappoint me when I did, would you?” 

I certainly would ! ” replied the professor, 
laughing. 

“ Oh ! Then it is well I did n’t tell. Paula will 
be just dying to know what I have done and 
where I have been ; but you see she is n’t to 
know, yet ; neither she nor anybody. This is a 
Mystery — a capital-letter MYSTERY! And it 
is n’t to be divulged until we are all ready for the 
denouement. See?” 

“ Not very clearly, my dear.” 

“ Oh, bother !' — I don’t mean that saucily, but 
because there is so little time to explain. We 
don’t wish anybody to know anything about 
what Melville hopes or what he may have dis- 
covered until he is all ready to test it. When 


MIXED PICKLES. 


189 

you are sure, — perfectly, perfectly sure, — and it 
has been tried in other ways ever so many times, 
then he is to try it on himself; when the great 
surgeon says the time has come. We want him 
to show his courage and get his fame all at 
once — in a blaze of glory ! Poor laddie ! he 
has n’t had many blazes of glory, but he ’s had 
lots of blazing tempers ! He ’s almost as spunky 
as I am. So, when we get to The Snuggery, you 
are to be — He, I am a Heroine, and this is 
part of my romance. I just have astonished 
Paula Pickel for once in my life, and I don’t want 
you to go and spoil the fun. You won’t, will 
you? ” 

“ Not if I can help it,” answered the savant^ 
enjoying the nonsense like a boy. “ But I may 
do so unintentionally.” 

‘‘ I sha’n’t let you. If you go to say anything 
you should not, I will frown ; and when I frown, 
you are to stop short off, no matter what it is.” 

“ That is destined to make me appear very 
silly, I fear. I shall be sure to say the thing you 
do not wish.” 

I think not ; and you won’t mind being rather 


190 


MIXED PICKLES. 


silly for once, when you are so very wise most of 
the time, will you ? ” 

I don’t know about the wisdom, my dear. I 
often feel as if I had but learned the alphabet of 
wisdom, and that most imperfectly.” 

The professor’s tone had become grave, and of 
the truth of his conviction there could be no 
doubt. Octave looked at him in astonishment. 

“Why, Professor von Holsneck ! If you are 
not wise, who in this world is? ” 

“ The more we learn the greater is the vista 
of knowledge which opens before us. What I 
have gained in understanding is as nothing, noth- 
ing, to that I could desire, and, being almost at 
the end of life, that I must leave unknown; 
unless, indeed, in that other life I shall be per- 
mitted to advance forever.” 

“ Then — what must you think of poor me ! ” 
cried Octave, abashed at last by a thought of 
her own acquirements in comparison with his. 

“ That you are a very charming child, ” 
responded the great man, so heartily and affec- 
tionately that her smiles returned. 

When they had reached their station, and had 


MIXED, PICKLES. 


191 

been driven up the mountain side in one of the 
lumbering stages which were on hand for the 
accommodation of stray passengers, their talk 
reverted to Germany and the son of the professor, 
who was still there, prosecuting his studies in 
art, and whose attainments seemed, to judge by 
the fond parent’s talk, to be something wonderful 
indeed. 

The truth was, that Octave had walked straight 
into the deepest corner of his heart by her swift 
recognition of a humble scene which that absent 
son had depicted on his canvas, and had sent 
across the sea to convince his father that the 
absence was not unfruitful of good result. An 
artist’s career had been the last the professor 
would have chosen for his boy ; but he was wise 
enough to let each nature work out its own salva- 
tion in its own way. “ A good artist would have 
been a spoiled scientist,” he had philosophically 
reasoned with himself; though his disappointed 
hopes were sometimes still hard to bear. So, 
when Octave’s ignorant tongue had told him that 
the boy had been right, he had been better 
pleased than if she had brought him a costly 
offering. 


192 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Seeing it pleased him, if not wholly under- 
standing why, the girl had gone on to describe in 
detail all the familiar scenes in which her previ- 
ous summers had been passed ; and the descrip- 
tion brought the absent son’s present environment 
in clearest view to the father’s mental sight. 

Down the little path there by the gate, Hans 
always went of a morning with his tin dinner-pail, 
and his spade or shovel over his shoulder, the 
little best room, — I know that is the one they 
have given your boy, — the great bed stands so 
and so ; and there is an old black chest of 
drawers. In those, I should n’t wonder but he 
keeps all his pictures, and wet sketches, to get 
them out of the dust. Gretchen is eternally 
stirring up a dust, you must know, and then lay- 
ing it down again with a wet rag. Paula used to 
sketch in oils, and she and Gretchen were always 
in a riot on account of the ‘ fuzz ’ sticking so to 
the paint. She used to threaten putting her 
horrid daubs in the chest then, but I would n’t let 
her. I was n’t going to have my Sunday frock 
spoiled and smutched by green and yellow spots, 
would you ? ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


193 


“ No, I would not, ” responded the professor, 
heartily, if absently. He was seeing, at that 
very moment, the little Dutch bed-chamber and 
his happy, careless lad, putting away with the 
forethought he exercised only upon his “ work ” 
the half-finished sketch he had just been over the 
hill to make. Octave laughed, and her laugh 
recalled the old man to the actual, and to the 
knowledge that their stage had drawn up before 
the white palings of an old-fashioned house, in 
whose wide door-way a group of curious young 
faces were pictured. 

“ We ’re here ! ” said Octave, springing down 
and standing with a great show of dignity, while 
the professor clambered after her. 

Then they walked up the gravel path together, 
and just before the group of watchers Octave 
paused. 

“You see, I did come back; and this is — 
He!” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


Aunt Ruth was in great perplexity. She 
did not intend to let her mother see that she was 
but when had her tell-tale countenance ever 
hidden anything from the eyes which watched it 
so closely and fondly? 

So it was of no avail that she sat quietly down 
with her sewing, by the open window of their 
pleasant apartment at the sea-side hotel where 
they were staying, and tried to look indifferent. 
Mother Amy’s gentle voice broke the stillness at 
once. 

“What is it, Ruth?” 

“ How does thee know that there is anything? 
I mean — what does thee mean?” 

“ What is troubling thee, my child ? ” asked 
the old lady, smiling at Ruth’s confusion. 

“ The old subject. Mother Amy.” 

“ Surely, not my health. The Lord has been 
very good to me. I have promise of living yet 
awhile, to do His work; if so pleases Him.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


195 


No, not thy health. If no one troubled me 
more than thee does, sweet mother, I should 
find life all too comfortable. It is the children — 
the ‘ pickles.’ ” 

“ Thee promised to leave care behind thee 
when we left The Snuggery, and thee has bravely 
tried to keep thy word, though it has been hard 
at times. What is new about them, now? ” 

“ I have a letter from Rosetta which puzzles 
me. I don’t know if thee is well enough to hear 
it, but I should like advice.” 

“ Ruth, I am well ; and thee shall have the 
advice for what it may be worth to thee.” 

Ruth drew a yellow envelope from her pocket. 
The letter which it contained was much messed 
and rumpled, and the blotches of ink were visi- 
ble even across the room ; so that to look upon 
it was painful to Grandmother Kinsolving’s fas- 
tidious eyes. Evidently the writer had concocted 
the epistle with great labor and at broken inter- 
vals, and her unaccustomed fingers had found 
the task an almost impossible one. 

The letter began, — 


196 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Dear Mam, that is Ruth; 

I ain’t a writin’ this to the old laidy, becos I no that You don’t 
want her to be Trobbled about the House and what’s in it whilst 
she’s away. Well thar hain’t enny use of Worryin ’ I don’t sup- 
pose; but I thort I ’d better jest rite an’ tell ye, I mean thee, so as 
ye wouldn’t hev no call ter blame me fir what i couldn’t noways 
pervent. i done the best i could an’ that’s the livin’ truth an’ i 
didn’t no nothin’ about it afore she went, but shecum back all 
rite an’ fetched Him with her, an’ i don’t no no more what it 
means, an’ the dead an’ not so much as they sometimes sees into 
things we canst. i did think i wouldn’t say nothing about it, an’ 
then thinks i to my self thinks i if i Don’t tell em nothin’ an’ they 
cum home an’ finds it out, mebbe they’ll blame me an’ no wonder, 
an’ So i thort i’d rite a few lines to let yu no that i am well an’ 
hope these few lines finds yu an’ yours the same. He was shet up 
with him considable of a Spel, but they wan’t no more eggsplosh- 
uns ner chloroforms so fur forth as i no. So no more at present 
from yours in respect of humbly, 

Rosetta Perkins. 

“ Ruth ! Ruth ! give me the letter. Thee can- 
not have read it aright, ” said Mother Amy, 
laughing merrily ; for her daughter had read the 
epistle through exactly as it had been written, 
without punctuation and with all the imperfect 
spelling accented as far as was possible to do so. 

The daughter passed the paper over into her 
mother’s hands and curiously watched her face 
while she endeavored to make its meaning intelli- 
ble. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


197 

“Well, and what does thee think of it? Can 
thee guess what mischief those young ones have 
been after now? ” 

“ No ; I cannot,” said Mrs. Kinsolving, after 
a second and slower perusal. “ It does not 
appear to be anything serious, however. I 
would not worry about it, if I were in thy place.” 

“ How can I help it, mother? ” 

“ How, indeed, my Ruth, till thee is made over 
new ! Thee began to worry in thy cradle, and 
thee will keep it up until the end, I fear. I wish 
thee would not.” 

“There has been something going on that 
Rosetta has been troubled about.” 

“ Rosetta is troubled about many things, from 
* pie-crust to religion,’ as thee has so often 
remarked. It is, likely, something about Abraham 
and the stock ; and we have known Abraham’s 
trustworthiness these many years, although 
Rosetta still feels a care over him as if he were 
a child.” 

No stfrer symptom of Grandmother Kinsolv- 
ing’s physical improvement could have been 
found than in her mirthfulness of mood; and 


198 


MIXED PICKLES. 


those who heard her light jests could easily see 
where Ruth had acquired her odd ways of look- 
ing at life. Mother Amy was religious to her 
heart’s core, and the sweetness and gladness of 
her religion shone through her words and lovely 
features as the light within shines through an 
uncurtained window on a winter’s night. 

Mother, if thee thinks thee is well enough to 
be left, I would like to take a run up to the farm 
and see with my own eyes if anything is amiss.” 

“ Gho, if thee likes, my child. I am certainly 
well enough; besides, in this kind family are 
many willing hands to do for me the slightest 
service I may require. The young serving- 
woman that has charge of our rooms appears 
to be fond of me. If her mistress is willing, 
thee might engage her to look after me in thy 
absence, and then both thee and I would feel 
safe and independent. As much as one human 
being can ever be independent of the souls 
around him,” concluded the dear old lady, 
gravely. 

So it was settled ; and, hoping to be away from 
her post of love and duty but for a little while, 


MIXED PICKLES. 


199 


Ruth Kinsolving tied on her gray bonnet, and 
pinned her gray shawl about her shapely should- 
ers, and set off for home. 

Some days had passed since Octave’s disap- 
pearance in a “ Mystery,” and her no less 
strange reappearance with “ Him ” ; but no 
explanation had she vouchsafed of the affair, and 
the curiosity which had succeeded anxiety re- 
mained in the breasts of the other young house- 
holders, to torment them with ever-growing 
strength. 

Paula had written several letters to Aunt Ruth 
on the subject, but she was prudent and thought- 
ful by nature, and the recollection that no harm 
seemed to have come of the adventure, and that 
Aunt Ruth was easily disturbed, had restrained 
her from posting them. They still reposed in 
the bottom of her pretty writing-desk, ready for 
dispatching whenever it should seem advisable. 

Even Content had been moved to interference, 
and had urged Octave first, and afterward Mel- 
ville, to disclose the “Mystery”; but to all 
persuasions the “ conspirators ” turned a deaf ear. 

“ And won’t you tell me, if I promise never-no- 


200 


MIXED PICKLES, 


never-s’long’s-I-live to tell nobody else?” asked 
little Fritz, coaxingly. “ Where 'd you go to, 
Octave, and who was the old man what came 
home with you ? ” 

“Oh, I couldn’t tell, any how you fix it, 
dearie. I ’ve promised Melville, and he ’s prom- 
ised me; but by and by everybody will know. 
You must all be patient. Grandmother says that 
‘ patience is a virtue.’ ” 

“ Does grandmother know?” 

“ No, indeed; that is, not about this.” 

“ Nor Aunty Ruth? ” 

“ Least of all ! ” 

“ But she does, though. ” 

“She cannot, Fritz.” How? The girls have 
all said that they would n’t worry her about it, 
and Melville has n’t — that I ’m sure of.” 

“ She does, though.” 

“ How, Fritzy? ” 

“ Ho ! I guess I won’t. I ’m a ‘ Mystery,’ 
too ! ” 

“ You midget ! You don’t even know what a 
Mystery ’ is ! ” 

“Yes, but I do. Paula and Content, they 


MIXED PICKLES. 


201 


hunted it out in the die — dictionary book, and 
they told me when I asted them. I do know, 
so ! ” 

“ Tell me what it is, and I ’ll believe you 
understood.” 

“ It’s a pro — some kind of a secret.” 

“ Humph ! You ’re precocious ! ” said Octave, 
half vexed. 

“ I ain’t no such a thing ! ” 

“That doesn’t mean anything bad, Fritzy 
darling. It means that you are an unusually 
smart boy. See?” 

“ Oh, yes ; I knew that. Abry-ham and 
Rosetta and all of ’em says that,” answered the 
little lad, complacently. 

“ Fritz, your vanity is great.” 

“ You tell me and I ’ll tell you,” said the child, 
returning to the subject dearer to him just then 
than his own perfections. 

“ Fritz, if I would tell anybody, it would be 
you. But I cannot; I’ve promised, and I 
would n’t break my word. I ’m sure you could n’t 
ask that, little brother.” 

“ No,” said Fritz, gravely, with sober memo- 


202 


MIXED PICKLES. 


ries of that dreadful time when he broke his own 
word, and so nearly forfeited his right to be a 
gentleman. 

“ But, if you have n’t promised there is no rea- 
son why you should not tell me how Aunt Ruth 
heard what I did. I ’m sorry, for I don’t want 
to worry her, even if I am all right in what I 
have done, and she will be proud of me when it 
is all over.” 

“ Will she ? ” This was a new view of the case. 

I think so. Anyway, she ’ll be ^ as proud as 
proud ’ of Melville. So it won’t matter so much 
about me.” 

What ’ll you give me? ” 

“ A cent.” 

’T ain’t enough.” 

Five cents.” 

No, siree. I won’t tell for less than a quar- 
ter.” 

“ You mercenary little wretch ! I haven’t but 
ten cents to my name.” 

“ Borry of Melville. He always has lots.” 

“ I don’t like to run in debt. ” 

Pshaw ! How much have you got, anyway? ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


203 


Octave took out a very flat little porte-monnaie 
and emptied its contents into Fritzy’s dirty, wait- 
ing palms. The amount was eleven cents and 
one bad German coin, which the little boy said 
he would take “ in case it should be good some- 
time.” Then, for value received, he imparted the 
information that “ Rosetta wrote a letter. She 
wrote it with her tongue and her fingers, and 
making up faces the worsest that ever was ! An ’ 
when it was done I drove to the post-offlce in my 
pony-cart, and mailed it, an ’ the postmaster he 
gave me a stamp, an ’ I licked it on.” After 
which circumstantial evidence Octave concluded 
that there could be no doubt about the matter. 

^‘Well, then all I have to say is, that first 
thing we know, Aunt Ruth will come home.” 

“Will she?” asked Fritz, eagerly. Then, as 
a shadow fell across the path, he looked up. 
“ Ginger ! ” he cried ; “ there she is now ! ” 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


For an instant silence reigned ; but it was 
not in the frank natures of either Octave or Fritz 
to tremble long before the apparition which had 
appeared so suddenly in their midst. Fritz flew 
to the arms outstretched to receive him with a 
genuineness of joy that was very sweet to Ruth’s 
heart, and Octave’s momentary hesitation van- 
ished at the first kindly smile from her relative’s 
lips. 

*‘Dear Aunt Ruth, I am glad to see you, 
after all,” she said, coming forward as Fritz was 
deposited upon the ground; and Ruth’s clear 
gaze rested on the girl with fond surprise. She 
did not remember to have left Octave so well 
grown and fair of face ; and yet a second’s thought 
showed that no very great change could have 
been accomplished during the few weeks of her 
absence. 

Fritz and Octave had been the aunt’s favor- 
ites. She had not even attempted to deny that 


MIXED PICKLES. 


205 


fact to herself; there was something akin to her 
own outspoken nature in their characters, and it 
was with the most implicit confidence she believed 
that, whoever might have been misbehaving while 
she had been away, it could not be Octave. 

Undoubtedly, Fritzy had been in scrapes 
innumerable ; he could not exist without them ; 
but the scrapes of a child “ going on nine ” are 
rarely very serious. Her mind naturally fell 
upon Paula, whom she liked least of all her 
nieces; and it was with a prejudgment that 
Paula had been trying something romantic and 
out of the common that she had returned to The 
Snuggery to investigate. 

Paula, poor Paula ! The irreproachable and 
really lovely girl, whose faults might be disagree- 
able because they touched so closely upon the 
faults of others, but who fully intended to be 
just perfect, and was all the time anxiously inves- 
tigating her own motives, lest there should be 
some flaw therein. 

The one fault of which the elder “ Miss 
Pickel ” had been most painfully self-conscience 
was her own selfishness and love of ease. 


2o6 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Wise Grandmother Kinsolving had seen this, 
and had put the girl at the head of affairs, believ- 
ing that a position of trust would best counteract 
Paula’s tendency to indolence and fault-finding. 
Mother Amy had found that congenial labor is a 
happy antidote to the poison of sin, and believed 
implicitly in the old “ word ” that “ Satan still 
will find some task for idle hands to do.” Well, 
then, whoever fell under the guidance of the far- 
seeing Friend was rarely left to be a victim of 
the evil spirit’s wiles. 

But, as soon as she heard that her aunt had 
arrived, Paula reflected with no small degree of 
pride on her excellent management. She con- 
sidered that she had earned a right to be a bit 
self-complacent, since, during her brief reign, 
accidents had been fewer than usual, and “ the 
children” had really acquitted themselves very 
well indeed. 

So, delaying only long enough to complete the 
very pretty afternoon toilet she was making. 
Miss Pickel ” descended to receive her aunt, 
with what Uncle Fritz would have judged a very 
graceful greeting, and of which his loving heart 
would have been most proud. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


207 


But prejudiced Aunt Ruth saw only a prim 
little maiden, dressed far beyond the necessities 
of the occasion, and read in the momentary 
delay that dressing had occasioned the tardy wel- 
come of one who was conscious of having some- 
thing to hide. 

Even the unobservant Christina noticed the 
coldness of the aunt’s kiss, as compared with 
that she had bestowed on each of the others, who 
had not tarried for any toilet making before they 
bade her welcome home. As for Octave, she 
looked up in such visible surprise that honest 
Ruth was convicted of unfairness, and tried to 
remedy the mischief by scrupulous inquiries 
after Paula’s health. 

“ I am perfectly well,” answered Paula, thank- 
ing her relative sweetly, and inquiring in her own 
turn after their grandmother and her home-com- 
ing. 

“ She will not return for some time yet, if I 
can prevent it,” answered Ruth, with considerable 
sternness. She is used to quiet, and I should 
not like to have her improvement all for nothing, 
as it would be if she came back just yet.” 


208 


MIXED PICKLES, 


“Will you have lunch or dinner now?” asked 
the deputy house-mistress, trying to be perfect 
in her behavior. 

It was very odd, Ruth thought, to have any- 
one asking her in her own house if she would 
have something to eat, as if she had been a 
stranger; and somehow it did not strike her at 
all pleasantly. The pretty young Quakeress 
was, in reality, a little out of temper. She had 
been vexed at having to take this unexpected 
journey home, and, with her propensity for wor- 
rying, was already fancying a thousand evils 
which might have befallen her precious mother 
at the hands of that ignorant serving-maid to 
whom she had been entrusted. 

“ No, I am not hungry. It is not our habit 
to lunch at irregular hours ; or it was not our 
habit, when I was mistress here. Where is 
Rosetta?” 

“ Gone to the village for an afternoon’s visit,” 
replied Paula, surprised in her turn by her aunt’s 
tone, and more hurt by it than she would have 
cared to show. 

At this news Octave rejoiced, for she preferred 


MIXED PICKLES, 


209 


telling her aunt as much of her “ Mystery ” affair 
as she was free to divulge, and not have the 
account garbled by any other’s report. Oddly 
enough, her proceeding had never looked such 
a bold and strange one as it had during the few 
minutes since Aunt Ruth had returned. 

“ I wonder why I do feel so queer ! I ’m sure 
I did nothing wrong, nothing I would not do 
again, if I was placed in just such a position. 
And it is all coming out so beautifully, too. 
Oh, dear ! How shall I get a chance to talk 
with her first ! ” thought Octave, growing more 
and more perplexed. 

But presently Ruth’s eyes begun to wander 
afresh around the apartment. There was one 
other who had failed in her welcome, and that 
the sweet-faced Content. Octave interpreted the 
glance in her quick way, and replied to it. Oh, 
it ’s lamb and caper sauce this afternoon. Aunt 
Ruth. It ’s the first tantrum Melville has had in 
some time. He really is the most improved 
boy — ” 

There was plenty of room for it,” inter- 
rupted Ruth, grimly. What was the ‘ tantrum ’ 
about? ” 


210 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Octave colored. She could not answer without 
involving somebody else in possible blame, and 
that one she who, strangely enough, seemed 
already to have incurred it. Had the family 
been asked who would have the best record to 
show the absent house-mistress upon her return, 
the answer would have been unanimous, “ Paula.” 
It was incomprehensible, yet it seemed true, that 
now Paula was the only one found wanting in 
favor. 

“What was the * tantrum ’ about, Octave? 
Thee must tell me.” 

“ It was a trifle, Aunt Ruth. If you please, I 
would rather not tell.” 

“ As thee likes. Christina, then.” 

But Christina, the peace lover, was frightened. 
She tell tales of anybody ! Least of all, of 
Melville and Paula ! 

The affair was really, as Octave had said, one of 
the slightest import ; but because of their hesita- 
tion it grew to assume tremendous consequence 
in Ruth’s mind. There was evidently something 
they all wished to hide, and a very natural feel- 
ing of resentment filled her heart. Here, in her 


MIXED PICKLES. 


2II 


own home, over which, under the gentle supervi- 
sion of her mother, she had reigned supreme 
during all her maiden life, she was flouted by a 
parcel of young creatures who had intruded upon 
her peace, uninvited, and unconscious, even, of 
that intrusion. They seemed so to take it for 
granted that she was as pleased to have them 
there as they had been to come ! and she did not 
like it at all ; she had only received them because 
her mother had said it was right. 

“ Well, if none will tell, then I will go and 
learn from Melville himself. He has faults 
enough, but he is not afraid to give an answer 
when it is demanded.” 

With that, and with a motion which seemed to 
impart to the rustling gray gown which clothed 
her tall figure an air of great austerity, Ruth led 
the way to the cripple’s room. Scarcely know- 
ing whether they were wanted or not, but with 
the natural curiosity of their age, the others 
followed in a body. 

“ Hello, Aunt Ruth ! When did you come to 
town?” was Melville’s rather disrespectful salu- 
tation. 


212 


MIXED PICKLES. 


I came home this afternoon. I am pleased to 
see thee in such fine spirits. I had heard that 
thee was in a ‘ tantrum.’ ” 

“ Oh, I was, a little while ago ; but Content 
has cured me. She ’s a great pacifier of family 
strife. Aunt Ruth.” 

“ I know that,” replied the aunt, kissing with 
fervency the niece who had sprung to her side 
in glad surprise. “ Our little Content is always 
right.” 

Sense me. Aunt Ruthy, but she is n’t. She 
told a story one day.” 

“ O Fritzy, I think that could not be ! ” 

^^Yep; she told me sober own self; didn’t 
you. Content? ” 

“ Yes, I did tell him so. Aunt Ruth ; but it was 
not here that I was guilty of the sin. We were 
comparing notes, and finding out that everybody 
does wrong, even though they do not mean to,” 
said Content, in her low voice and with a painful 
flush on her fair cheek. It was one thing to be 
confidentially sympathetic with Fritzy, in the 
privacy of her own room and the sacredness of a 
Sunday afternoon chat ; it was quite another to 


MIXED PICKLES. 


213 


have her fault published “on the housetop” as 
it were, and as a sort of send-off to her aunt’s 
unexpected return. 

“Well, I declare!” said Octave, suddenly. 
Then stopped, as if she had forgotten herself. 

“Thee declares what. Octave?” asked Ruth, 
sharply, and sitting suddenly down upon the foot 
of Melville’s lounge. 

“ I don’t know how to say it, but something 
appears to have come over all of us and set us 
all by the ears, just the minute you came in. ” 

It was an unfortunate speech, and Octave swiftly 
recognized the fact ; but she could see no way 
of setting it right, so perforce she left it. 

“ I am not accustomed to setting people ‘ by 
the ears,’ Octave ; and if thee and thy sisters 
are disturbed by my coming there must be some 
reason for it. I may as well tell all that I had a 
very peculiar letter from Rosetta Perkins, and it 
is that has sent me home on this flying visit.” 

Melville caught the word “ flying,” and, in his 
relief that it was only such an one, he winked at 
Octave. Aunt Ruth intercepted the wink and 
the swift glance of sympathy which answered it. 


214 MIXED PICKLES. 

More than ever was she convinced that there was 
mischief afoot, and that she was none too soon 
upon the scene. 

“ Aunt Ruth, did you bring Rosetta’s letter 
with you ? ” asked Octave, so suddenly that the 
other replied without thinking. 

Yes, I think it is in my hand-bag.” 

Will you let us see it? ” 

“ For what reason? ” 

“ Because it seems to have made mischief. 
There is something wrong somewhere, and I, for 
one, don’t know where ; but I should like to. If 
I see what she has said, then I can tell just how 
to straighten it out.” 

Ruth was sorely puzzled ; but she smiled at 
Octave’s ingenuous confession that she desired 
to fix things up to suit the occasion ; yet some- 
way she did not misconstrue it, nor in any degree 
include her favorite in the general blame. 

“ Thee can read the letter if thee chooses ; 
read it aloud. But thee is not likely to make 
much sense out of it. I could not, therefore I 
came home.” 

Miss Kinsolving took the letter from her 


MIXED PICKLES. 


215 


satchel and gave it to Octave, who attempted to 
read it aloud, as she had been directed. But the 
feat, for that fun-loving girl, was an impossibility. 
She would enunciate a few word and then stop 
to laugh, which, in itself, would have been confus- 
ing, had the epistle been most carefully worded ; 
but, composed as it was and ambiguous in the 
extreme, the others found the suspense more 
than they could endure ; so it was finally handed 
over to Content, and she managed to get through 
it after a fashion. 

“ But what does it all mean? ” asked that girl, 
smilingly. 

“ It means, as far as I can translate it, that 
there has been some strange occurrence here. 
Something that would not have happened if 
mother and I had been at home. I have come 
here, as I told thee, to find out what it is. Paula, 
thee is the eldest. What has happened that 
should not? ” 

Paula did not answer. Her eye unconsciously 
flew to Octave, and then dropped upon the car- 
pet. Her new habit of self-denial would not 
allow her to convict her sister. 


2i6 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Ruth frowned. “What is it, Content? ” 

But poor Content flushed and paled, yet 
neither would she reply ; that is, in such terms as 
her aunt desired. “ I would rather not tell. Aunt 
Ruth.” 

“ Then thee acknowledges there is something, 
and thee knows what that something is? ” 

“Ye-es,” said Content. 

“I shall get to it, then; Fritzy, what has 
happened? ” 

“ I run Don into the side of the stable and 
barked his sides all off.” 

It was a relief for all to laugh ; the confession 
was made in such honest trepidation, for Fritz 
knew that old Don was the “ apple of his Aunt 
Ruth’s eye.” 

“ Christina, will thee tell me ? ” 

The gentle tone assumed when she was ad- 
dressed sent soft-hearted little Christina into a 
flood of tears. 

“Melville?” 

“ Wild horses won’t drag it out of me. Aunt 
Ruth.” 

“ Then, Paula, I shall hold thee responsible. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


217 


Thee was left in charge. Come with me to my 
room. I will hear thy story there.” 

Wait, Aunt Ruth; there is no blame to be 
put upon anybody but me. I, Octave, was 
what ‘ happened ’ ; I always am, you know.” 

There was visible relief in all the faces of the 
group, save that of the self-accused. Yes, and 
save in that of Aunt Ruth herself. At that 
instant it was perfectly evident to all that the 
judgment which would be meted out to Octave 
would be far more lenient than it would have 
been in any other case. 

An expression of keenest regret stole over the 
young Friend’s features ; and a look of astonish- 
ment that cut Octave to the heart. But she did 
not gaze upon it long, for, with an impetuous 
rush, she fell upon Ruth’s neck and hid her face 
on the gray-clad shoulder. “Yes, Aunt Ruth; 
and I am sorry; but I should do it again, just 
the same. No, I mean, not perhaps not the 
same — but, oh, dear! I — I believe, upon my 
word, I ’m crying ; and I ’m sure I don’t know 
why I ” 


CHAPTER XIX. 


One by one the cousins who could do so 
passed out of the room, leaving Melville, who 
could not go had he wished, as sole witness of 
the interview between Ruth and Octave. 

The sight of the merry Octave in tears was 
one so unusual and so depressing that little Fritz 
set up a dismal wail, which Christina checked 
her own more silent grief to soothe. 

“ Never mind, little brother; Aunt Ruthy loves 
Octave ever so ! She ’ll not scold her very hard 
for running away and being a heroine.” 

“ But she will ! And Octave cried ! I never, 
no never, all my life long, saw my Octave a-cryin’. 
I — I wish the old thing had staid to home ; so 
there ! ” 

“ But this is her home, Fritz ; and it is you 
and I who have put her out of it. That’s what 
Luke said. He said we ‘ kerried on so like pos- 
sessed’ that we ‘jest clean druv’ grandmother 
and Aunt Ruth away.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


219 


“ It ’s no sech a thing ! An’ I ’ll tell Luke 
Tewksbury so to his old face ! ” retorted Fritz, 
indignantly, and forgetting to cry. “ He ’s a 
mean boy. He hitched my mare up to the 
harvest-wagon and said she had got to draw 
a — ’bout twenty tons of stuff. He did, so.” 

Christina did not dispute the assertion, and the 
picture of the tiny pony hitched before a lumber 
wagon was one that elicited her keenest sym- 
pathy. 

“Well, never mind, dear; he didn’t really do 
it, and you can ask Aunt Ruth to make Luke 
stop teasing you. I am glad she has come 
home, though it did seem so sort of upsetting 
at first. She’ll straighten out all the crooked 
things, I fancy, she ’s a ‘ powerful hand to man- 
age,’ Rosetta says.” 

Don’s bray coming to his ears at that moment 
diverted the thoughts of Fritz from anything 
unpleasant, and he rushed out of doors to try a 
bare-back ride. This was a feat he had never 
yet accomplished, but which he daily attempted 
with an enthusiasm and courage worthy of a bet- 
ter cause. “Fritzy, he never gins up licked,” 


220 


MIXED PICKLES. 


was Abraham’s as daily comment ; and this was 
uttered in an indescribable tone, which seemed to 
put the child to a greater determination than 
ever. 

“Take care, Fritzy,” called Christina; “don’t 
go and hurt yourself just as Aunt Ruth has come 
home ” ; which suggested that it would not be so 
much of a matter if he did so at other times. 

Paula and Content slipped arms about each 
other’s waists and wandered off between the box- 
bordered flower-beds in the old garden. Of 
late, they had found many things in common, of 
likes and dislikes ; and it had grown to be “ the 
girls,” whenever they were spoken of in the 
household. Slowly ripening friendships are saf- 
est; and that of the elder cousins had grown 
gradually enough ; but now it promised to equal 
that of names famous in history. 

“ What can I have done to vex Aunt Ruth ! ” 
cried Paula, wistfully. “ I never thought so 
much about doing just right in my life as I have 
done since grandmother went away; but the 
harder I try the worse things appear to go.” 

“You have done right, dear Paula; and Aunt 


MIXED PICKLES. 


221 


Ruth will be the first to see she was mistaken in 
laying any blame to you. She is so honest she 
will tell you so, or else I am very much mis- 
taken. But what in the world Octave ever went 
away like that for, and why she went, is just as 
much a puzzle to me as ever. Aunt Ruth will 
get the truth out of her, though, if it is possible.” 

“What do you mean? Octave would not tell 
a lie to save herself any amount of blame.” 

“ Of course, I know that ; but what the ‘ Mys- 
tery ’ is, and why there should be any ‘ Mystery,’ 
is more than I see. Aunt Ruth will find out 
what it is.” 

“ It’s between Melville and Octave. One is as 
deep in it as the other. And I have a suspicion, 
but I don’t know what gave it to me, either.” 

“A suspicion of what?” 

“ I think that he has thought of something, 
or invented something that she went away to see 
about. And that old gentleman who came home 
with her is in the plot, too. I wonder who he 
was! Not much of anybody, though, I fancy; 
he was so very plain and quiet.” 

Meanwhile, behind the closed door of Mel- 


222 


MIXED PICKLES. 


ville’s room, Octave was undergoing a cross-ex- 
amination which tried her ardent soul to the 
uttermost. Time and time again she was on the 
point of giving out and divulging the “ Mystery ” ; 
but as often was she restrained by the thought of 
the brilliant climax she hoped to achieve. She 
had promptly dried her tears, and looked up 
bravely into the kind, questioning face above her, 
and Aunt Ruth thought she had never seen any- 
thing sweeter than the frank young countenance 
into which she looked back. 

“You see. Aunt Ruthy, it’s just this way. 
People can hold their tongues even if they do 
want to tell things, if they think that some good 
is to be gained by it. Some great good is to be 
gained by my keeping still.” 

“Good to whom, Octave?” The aunt had 
found a deeper perplexity, even, than she had 
imagined. 

“ For Melville first, and afterward for all of us. 
Would n ’t you be proud of him, if you should 
suddenly find him the most famous boy of his 
age, of this age, I mean? ” 

“ Thee knows very well that I should be proud 


MIXED PICKLES, 


223 


of him or of any one who does a noble thing. 
Fame is not always nobility; nor is notoriety 
fame. I should not want either thee or him to 
do anything for the mere sake of making peo- 
ples’ tongues wag.” 

Aunt Ruth, we ’re all in a ‘ mix-up,’ as 
Fritzy says. In the first place, I am going to tell 
tales for once, so as to clear up that about the 
‘tantrum.’ Or, will you, Melville? It isn’t fair 
that you should think it was Paula.” 

“ But it was Paula, to begin with,” answered 
Melville, angrily. “ She has such a terrible weight 
of care on her shoulders, that she must needs 
come in here and go to upsetting my things ‘ to 
straighten them,’ she says. She has n’t the least 
idea of what value they are ; and she turned out 
some of my papers that will cost me hours to do 
over again ; and they must be done, because I 
promised the professor — ” 

“ Melville, take care ! ” warned Octave. 

Ruth’s ear had caught the word. As she knew 
but one professor with whom Melville had any 
acquaintance, and as he was thousands of miles 
away when last she had heard of him, her interest 
was freshly aroused. 


224 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ The professor? Has thee heard from him? ” 

“Yes, I have had three letters from him,” 
proudly replied the invalid, quite thrown off his 
guard. “ I have put them away in the most 
careful place, now ; but it was one of those that 
I thought Paula had destroyed, as well as my 
' calculations.’ Think of my having, really hav- 
ing them written to me^ too, three letters from a 
man so famous ! ” 

“ Humph ! I did not know that the professor 
was so great. He seemed to me a dreamer and 
a rather insignificant person altogether. What 
is he doing now?” asked Miss Kinsolving, with 
her mind quite upon the wrong person. 

“Why, Aunt Ruth! You cannot read the 
papers much I What is he not doing for science 
and the world? Think of all the wonderful helps 
to suffering people he has thought of in that one 
brain of his ! Oh, it ’s grand, grand I And to 
think that Mel — ” 

“ Octave, take care I ” warned the boy in his 
turn, but with eyes shining from the enthusiasm 
her words had aroused. 

Ruth looked from one to the other, and with 


MIXED PICKLES. ■ 225 

an expression so dismayed that Octave could not 
refrain from laughing. 

“ Excuse me, Aunt Ruthy ; but you do look so 
bothered, and it is all so splendid, if you only 
knew ! Won’t you just step out into the other 
room, and let me talk the thing over with Mel 
ville for a minute? Then I can know just how 
much to tell, and what I should not.” 

This was certainly a novel proposition from a 
girl to her guardian; but Octave’s earnestness 
disarmed it of offence. All that Ruth did ejacu- 
late was a characteristic “ Humph ! ” but the 
tone in which it was uttered said volumes. 

“ I know. Aunt Ruthy, it does seem dreadful 
saucy, and all that; but I don’t see how I am to 
help it. I am so sorry you came home ; no — I 
mean I ’m glad, of course, for I love you ; but if 
you had n’t come, it — ” 

“ It would have been more, convenient for 
thee,” finished Miss Kinsolving, smiling in spite 
of her determination to be stern ; also, in spite of 
her determination not to do anything of the kind, 
obediently walking out into the hall and standing 
there like a child in a game, while her compan- 


226 


MIXED PICKLES. 


ions behind the door deliberate as to her further 
mystification. 

Certainly, the truth that earnestness bears its 
own force was never more fully exemplified. 
After a very brief consultation, the door was 
opened and the lady invited to reenter. 

“Well, Aunt Ruth, there is nothing we can tell 
you, except that which Rosetta tried to write. I 
think that she meant this : Ten -days ago I went 
to New York.” 

“Octave! Alone?” 

“ Why, yes, ma’am ; who was there to go with 
me?” 

“But why?” 

“ On the happiest errand of my life. I am the 
proudest girl you ever saw ; though I am, even 
in this case, ‘ only Octave.’ Did you ever hear 
of Professor Edric von Holsneck? ” 

“ All the world has heard of him. What has 
he to do with thee and me?” 

“ Everything. I went to New York to see 
him.” 

“ Octave Pickel 1 ” cried Aunt Ruth, in her 
amazement ; and could say no more. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


22 / 


“Yes, and just as soon as he heard that my 
name was Octave Pickel he welcomed me with 
both hands, literally and figuratively.” 

Ruth sank back in her chair and fanned her- 
self with a palm- leaf she had picked up from the 
carpet. Her astonishment certainly made her 
speechless, till she reflected that after all it was 
not so strange. She had heard that the firm of 
“ Pickel & Pickel ” were Professor von Holsneck’s 
German publishers. 

“ Ah ! thee knew him, then ; that was differ- 
ent;* but I hope thee did not go uninvited, and 
that thee will intrude thyself upon no one with- 
out first consulting older persons.” 

“No, aunt; I did not know him at all. I had 
only heard of him, as you or anybody else has. 
But I had to see him on business. It was a sort 
of case of ‘ Mahomet and the mountain.’ The 
mountain — that’s Melville — couldn’t go to 
Mahomet, so I went down and commanded the 
prophet to come to the mountain, and he came.” 

“ Madcap ! Does thee mean to tell me that 
that great man has been beneath this roof, — been 
here in The Snuggery?” 


228 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Beneath this very roof, here in this very 
Snuggery ; sitting in that very chair where you 
sit now.” 

“Oh! Oh 1 ” gasped Miss Kinsolving; and in 
such dismay as to send them all off again into a 
fit of laughter, which on her part arose from 
nervousness, but on the young folks’s from pure 
delight. 

“But, Aunt Ruth, you are the only person 
privileged to know that. In this benighted 
household my blessed professor is known only as 
— He 1 He is a part of a splendid Mystery, 
which even you cannot be told, till the time is 
ripe. We have told you already more than we 
intended, and more than any one else is to know, 
perhaps for several weeks. When it is all accom- 
plished ” — here Octave smiled most encourag- 
ingly upon Melville, who suddenly appeared to 
turn pal*e — “ everybody will congratulate every- 
body, and everything will be so beautiful I Please, 
Aunt Ruth, don’t tell Paula Pickel nor any of 
the others what we have told you. Let them 
just live on and wonder who He is, and what 
He is or was doing here. And won’t you 


MIXED PICKLES. 


229 


just be real nice to Paula? That girl has made 
a martyr of herself to ‘duty’ ever since you 
have been away ; and I should have been here to 
look after my boy when she came in, then there 
would n’t have been any ‘ tantrum.’ But ‘ tan- 
trums ’ are n’t anything. They ’re only a symp- 
ton of — genius. That is what the great man — 
He — called your Melville. Oh, I tell you, 
Ruth Kinsolving, this family is bound to be 
known to fame; and all on account of this young 
snapping-turtle here, that is as rightly named 
Capers as I am Pickel. Content we call the 
‘ lamb,’ and when the capers are a little too spicy 
we send her in to get the sauce spread over a 
mild surface. See?” 

The day following, when Ruth entered her 
mother’s room again, that observant person 
remarked that “ the change has done thee a 
great deal of good. I never saw thee looking 
brighter in thy life, my daughter. That tells me 
without asking that thee found everything as it 
should be at home.” 

“ I certainly have had a thorough ‘ change,’ 
Mother Amy; and I have been considerably 


230 


MIXED PICKLES. 


‘ stirred up.’ But whether everything is as it 
should be, that I am not prepared to say. I 
was never so puzzled in my life ; and I never 
heard of such children.” 

“ They are good children, only a bit more 
sprightly than common ” ; returned the grand- 
mother, fondly. I shall be glad when thee 
thinks it is best for me to go back to them.” 

Ruth sighed profoundly. She was conscious 
already of a sort of homesick feeling to be living 
again amidst all that overflowing life which had 
taken possession of The Snuggery and practically 
driven her out of it. 

Mother Amy looked up from her knitting once 
more. “ Thy brow is frowning, and thee looks 
even more perplexed than when thee went away, 
Ruth ; but brighter and gayer.” 

“Yes, mother, it did do me good, I think; 
but — ” 

“ I hope the children have not been doing any- 
thing rash.” 

“ Doing ! Rash ! Mother Amy, think of the 
most unlikely thing in the world, and then make 
up thy mind that those children have done it. 
Even then thee will be far short of the mark.” 


CHAPTER XX. 


A “ Mystery ” is not healthful for any one ; 
even when the secret originates in brains as 
youthful as Octave’s; and though it did not 
solve the problem for the household, yet the visit 
of Miss Kinsolving had somewhat the effect of a 
thunder-storm upon a murky atmosphere. Cer- 
tainly, after her few words of apology and appro- 
bation to Paula, that painstaking girl felt too 
happy to pay any further attention to the vagaries 
of the “ conspirators,” Melville and Octave ; 
Content had her thoughts drawn from it by the 
arrival of fresh letters and parcels from Japan; 
Christina was deep in some new volumes of old- 
time fairy tales, which her aunt had substituted 
for Luke’s story papers; and little Fritz lived 
mostly out of doors. 

So if the “ Mystery ” did not die, the interest 
of those not immediately connected with it did 
die ; and The Snuggery, for several consecutive 
days, appeared as the abode of perfect peaceful- 


ness. 


232 


MIXED PICKLES. 


“ There is somethin’ boun’ ter happen ! ” said 
Rosetta to Abraham. “ Whenever them young- 
ones is still a minute it ’s ’cause they ’re a-hatchin’ 
out fresh monkey-shines. They hain’t any on 
’em done nothin’ out o’ the beaten track this 
week er more. Not since Miss Ruth was to 
home.” 

^‘Wall, I shouldn’t think ye’d hanker to hev 
’em step off the ‘ beaten track,’ as ye tell about. 
I ’ve noticed that when they does step off they 
mostly steps a good pace. There was Octavy, 
now, who ’d ever thort of a gal a-turnin’ a hull 
hay-riggin’ over on top of her ; but she done it 
an ’ come out purty near as good as ever. 
Reckon she is — jest as well as she was afore, an ’ 

’ pears ter be gettin’ as plump as a pa’tridge. 
But Pauly, she don’t never seem to get inter no 
scrapes, like the rest on ’em.” 

“ Humph ! ” retorted Rosetta, drawing off the 
yellow buttermilk for Abraham to carry away to 
the pigs. She got inter one the very fust night 
she arriv’. She scairt the life clean out o’ poor 
Mis’ Capers, but you seem ter fergit thet.” 

“ I hain’t hed no chance ter fergit it, bein ’s ye 


MIXED PICKLES. 


233 


keep talkin’ ’bout it. But don’t ye worry; this 
here Sunday-meetin’ sort of doin’s ain’t a goin’ 
ter last long enough ter hurt us. My ! but that 
buttermilk is rich ! ” And^ wiping his lips on his 
shirt-sleeve, the farmer walked away sty wards. 

It is rarely safe to prophesy evil. It seemed 
as if the very mention of ‘‘ scrapes ” was enough, 
in that household, to induce one. 

All summer long the. pigs, which were the pride 
of Abraham’s heart, had been allowed to run 
about in some fields, and get their living pretty 
much as they would have done in a native state. 
But haying was over, and the good man had 
more time to devote to his “ stawk ” than he had 
had during that busy season just past. It 
appeared to him time to begin “ fattenin’,” and 
that very day he had driven the pigs into a near- 
by enclosure, intending to shut them into their 
pens at night and feed them there. 

.For that purpose he had collected all the 
buttermilk Rosetta had to spare, and, walking 
noiselessly along over the grass-grown path, he 
raised the pail to the top of the high, board fence 
above the trough and emptied the contents in 
one mighty swish. 


234 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Though his eyes had been diverted by the 
gambols of some kittens in a tree, his feet had 
“ almost gone theirselves ” over the familiar 
way which led to the “ fattening ” quarters of 
many pigs departed long since, and it was an 
almost mechanical motion which had emptied 
the pail. 

There was nothing mechanical, however, about 
the yells and shrieks which followed, nor in the 
tremendous jump which Abraham’s long limbs 
made backwards. The startled man stumbled 
over a milking-stool which he had also brought 
along, and landed beneath the kittens’ tree with 
a thud which sent them shying still farther 
upwards. 

Then two heads appeared over the sty-wall, 
and two very red and angry faces gleamed from 
amid a flood of thick and clinging buttermilk. 

“ By the jingo ! ” cried Luke, in the accents of 
a story-paper hero. But his feelings were not at 
all story-paper-like, nor his further language that 
which would have been most approved. 

‘‘ What in the name of apple-sass be ye a-doin’ 
thar?” dernanded Abraham, as soon as he had 


MIXED PICKLES. 235 

picked himself up, and recognized the drenched 
persons as Luke and little Fritz. 

“Why can’t ye mind yer own business?” 
retorted the angry Luke. 

“I was. I was a-feedin’ the pigs — an’ if so 
be that ye belongs amongst ’em, all right. Ye Ve 
had yer supper.” And chuckling quietly to him- 
self, the busy man stalked off, leaving his vic- 
tims to recover their tempers and their cleanliness 
at their leisure. 

“Jest as I was a tellin’ ye, Rosetty, ye need n’t 
ha’ worrited. Some kinks was a-boun’ ter hap- 
pen. Thar was that lazy houn’, Luke, a settin’ 
in the pig-sty, an’ Fritzy alongside on him. I 
doused ’em both with buttermilk, an’ on your 
’count I ’m sorry, ’cause I s’pose ye ’ll hev the 
younguij ter clean. But I ain’t sorry noways 
elst. I s’picioned that boy of mine was a readin’ 
them air yarns ter Fritzy, ’cause the little chap 
he’s full of the oddest kind o’ sayin’s ye ever 
heerd ; an’ now I ’ve kotched him. You lay it 
down, Luke Tewkskury won’t git no great chanst 
in the futur’ ter waste Mis’ Kinsolving’s time a 
readin’ trash, not whilst I ’m his daddy ! If he 


236 


MIXED PICKLES. 


wants ter be sentimental, I ’ll gin him a chanst 
ter be, a-plowin’ that ten-acre lot.” 

This was all quite true, as Abraham had sur- 
mised. The disused pig-sty, shady and grass- 
grown, had formed a capital and unsuspected 
hiding-place for the fiction-loving Luke to while 
away an hour of time, nor did he know that it 
was so soon to be occupied by its natural tenants ; 
and after Christina’s refusal to read any more of 
his exciting tales, he had turned to Fritz for sym- 
pathy, filling that youngster’s mind with the 
strangest muddle of stuff which ever floated 
through a little brain. 

Fortunately, but a fraction of all he heard 
was comprehended, and a smaller fraction yet it 
was which remained to puzzle and excite the 
always excitable and, till now, carefully reared 
child. 

A tiny seed of evil stayed, — so small that no 
one would have dreamed it could ever have 
worked him ill. It was the idea of “ ghosts.” 
Not ghosts as they are usually considered, nor at 
all as they appeared to the impressible soul of 
Luke, A “ ghost,” young Tewksbury would no 


MIXED PICKLES. 


237 


sooner have tackled than a regiment of soldiers, 
and his own predilection was for “ burglars.” 
Had he known it, “ghosts” and “burglars” 
meant, to Fritz, one and the same thing; and 
both he and his instructor longed for a chance to 
show their prowess and “ have a fight with one.” 
Luke felt himself a hero of the deepest dye, and 
what Fritz thought of his own capacity to meet 
any and every emergency can be imagined. 

Both were to have an opportunity of proving 
their own merits, and it came speedily on the 
heels of that buttermilk episode. 

Luke slept in the house, though his father 
lodged at their own cottage, some little distance 
away. Sometimes Fritz was allowed to share 
Luke’s pleasant apartment, especially when there 
was a hunting trip in contemplation ; for, young 
as he was, it had been one of Uncle Fritz’s 
requests that the little boy should be allowed the 
use of fire-arms, believing, it may be wisely, that 
if one is early trained to them, there is less dan- 
ger of accident than when left to find out their 
use by lonely experiment. Luke was a “ crack 
shot,” and game on the mountain was abundant. 


238 ^ MIXED PICKLES. 

Fritz had already won a fair record, — for “ going 
on nine,” — and he was ambitious of further 
achievements. 

. The lads, big and little, went to bed, and soon 
to sleep; Fritz’s small rifle and Luke’s pistol 
lying ready at hand against an early waking. 
But visions of white, drenching floods, burglars, 
and ghosts mingled with little Fritz’s dreams; 
induced in great measure by an unusually bounti- 
ful supper which Rosetta had given him as a 
consolation for his accident, and partly by their 
having sat up quite late to finish a most thrilling 
tale and to taste of a lunch which had been put 
up for their out-of-door breakfast. 

“ If we eat it over-night, we ’ll make sure of 
it, ” said Luke, facetiously. He was always hun- 
gry, and Fritz was not to be outdone in that or 
any other matter by any big boy living. So he 
ate as long as he could, and then he dreamed as 
fast as he could; and in the midst of both, it 
always afterwards seemed to him, he had sat up 
in bed and seen Luke at the window, looking out 
with a very mysterious air. 

“What is it, Lukey?” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


239 


“ Whis-st ! Bu-ur-gla-rs ! ” 

Fritz could almost hear Luke’s teeth chatter. 

“ Cracky ! I bet he ’s afraid ! Abry-ham said 
he would be, if a real one came to town. I 
ain’t, though. I ’m a gentleman. Gentlemen 
ain’t never afraid of nothin’. Pooh ! I ’ll show 
him ! ” 

Creeping so softly out of bed in his - bare feet 
that his companion did not hear him, he seized 
his little rifle and cautiously crept to the other 
open window. 

On the grass below, a white figure was moving 
slowly about, in a vague sort of fashion, which, 
had either protector of the defenceless been 
wiser, he would have known belonged neither to 
any burglar nor ghost which ever troubled the 
repose of the peaceful. 

Luke’s own weapon was poised, but he was so 
nervous and intensely excited that he delayed to 
fire; else would the tragedy have been great. 
But while he paused to steady himself, crack 
went the other rifle, and down dropped the 
“ ghost.” 

Then and there arose such shrieks and screams 


240 


MIXED PICKLES. 


as no burglar or disembodied spirit ever uttered, 
and which drove Luke in despair to hide his 
head beneath the bed-clothes, and Fritz to stand 
and gaze with rueful, half-dazed wonder upon 
one — two — three — a whole yard full of ghosts ! 


CHAPTER XXL 


Fritzy’s face showed traces of recent tears, 
but his valiant air not even tears could subdue. 
He stood by Dr. Winslow’s side, affectionately 
resting one arm across the gentleman’s shoulder, 
and with the other surreptitiously wiping his 
besmeared and stubby little nose. 

The doctor tried to look grave, but the effort 
resulted only in a mixed expression of fun and 
seriousness. To his mind, small Fritzy was a 
delicious child,” infinitely diverting after the 
many grave cares which weighed upon the heart 
of the country physician, to whom each patient 
was like an old friend, therefore to be worried 
over beyond a mere professional interest in an 
unknown patient. 

The doctor was always glad of an excuse to 
stop at The Snuggery ; but he had been exceed- 
ingly anxious that night, when he had been sum- 
moned thither. 

^‘Luke and Fritz have been shooting folks,” 


242 MIXED PICKLES. 

was the breathless message Octave delivered, 
having run all the way between houses to give it. 

Shooting folks, Miss Octave ! What in the 
name of common-sense ! ” and the kind face had 
worn an expression of terrible dismay. “ Shoot- 
ing whom? ” 

“Oh, nobody but Paula ; I don’t believe they 
hurt her, either, but she doesn’t seem just right 
or she won’t talk, and — and — you ’ll come right 
away, quick, won’t you ? ” 

“ At once. Fortunately, the brown mare is 
already harnessed, for I had but just come in, 
and had let her stand to cool off. Jump in with 
me, and tell me on the way all about it.” 

Octave promptly obeyed, and her tongue flew 
fast for a few seconds. When she had finished, 
the doctor asked, “ Has any one been really 
wounded? ” 

“ I do not believe so ; though Rosetta declares 
that Paula must be, somewhere. I think she is 
terribly frightened, and it has made her faint. 
Who would n’t be that, to be shot at by a couple 
of boys, just because you were walking in your 
sleep ! ” 


MIXED PICKLES. 243 

“ Who, indeed ! ” exclaimed the physician, 
sympathetically, and drove the faster. 

From which it was evident that the burglar- 
ghost had been only poor Paula, taking one of 
her nocturnal, somnambulistic exercises ; and that 
when Octave had missed her sister from their 
room, she had set out in pursuit of her. Like- 
wise had little Christina, who, lying awake on her 
own small bed, had seen Paula pass the door, and 
had sleepily murmured, She ’s walking again, 
and I must get up and follow her.” Likewise 
Content, who had learned the family habit of 
care over the unfortunate victim of somnambu- 
lism. Ditto Rosetta, whose burdened soul had 
never known peaceful rest since the Kinsolvings 
went away and left the pickles ” in her charge. 

No wonder that Fritz had seen a “ whole yard 
full of ghosts”; for none of the pursuers had 
stopped to cover their white night-robes with 
anything less gleaming ; and no wonder that each 
and every female throat had emitted the shrillest 
scream of which it was capable, on receiving an 
attack from fire-arms. 

But “ all is well that ends well,” and when the 


244 


MIXED PICKLES. 


doctor had duly examined each “spook” sepa- 
rately, he found nothing more serious than a very 
bad fright to all, with a faintness on Paula’s part, 
which was easily accounted for by the shock of 
her sudden awaking. 

“ I ’m sure to goodness she is hit some’eres, 
though,” declared Rosetta, even in the face of 
professional assurance to the contrary. “ That 
little boy has shot more things ’an ye could shake 
a stick at ; he ’s allays a pepperin’ sunthin’ ; only 
day afore yisterday he aimed to kill a chip- 
monk an’ hit my Plymouth rooster.” 

“ Stuff and nonsense, Rosetta ! That ought to 
prove to you that he did n’t hit Paula — since he 
deliberately aimed at her. Any way, he only 
shot a hole through her very best night-dress, 
which she had no business to be wearing every 
day, and served her right,” cried Octave. 

“Is this so, Fritzy?” asked the doctor, de- 
spairing of convincing Rosetta that things were 
not so terrible after all. “ Do you practise shoot- 
ing at that rate ? ” 

“Well, I’m kind of out of practice now, but I 
used to hit a tack, a carpet tack, forty feet 


MIXED PICKLES. 245 

away,” answered the boy, with boastful assur- 
ance. 

“ Indeed ! That was doing well,” exclaimed 
the amused physician. 

Suddenly the boy pulled out a small pistol, 
and before the doctor quite comprehended what 
he was after, aimed at the opposite door and 
fired. The bullet missed .its mark, but Fritz 
walked across to the casement, and examined it 
with interest. “See? See there? That’s where 
she went through ! ” The grubby little forefin- 
ger traced a diminutive crack at the point where 
he fancied the bullet had vanished. “Must ha’ 
gone clear through ! ” 

“I think it went ‘clear though’ — ^the open 
window; but, Fritz, I hope you are not in the 
habit of carrying fire-arms. It is a very danger- 
ous thing to do.” 

“Well, I never did carry ’em, and I guess I 
sha’n’t begin now ; though they ain’t any danger. 
Pooh ! It scares Rosetta ’most into fits jest to see 
a fire-arm.” 

The aged air of experience, and the manly 
contempt for feminine weakness was so amusing 


246 


MIXED PICKLES. 


to the doctor that he felt repaid for his night’s 
trouble, just to have witnessed it. However, 
he decided to improve the opportunity by exer- 
cising the authority which Mrs. Kinsolving had 
placed in his hands when she left the Pickels for 
her sea-side sojourn. He had not used it there- 
tofore, believing that undue restriction would 
only set the active young brains of his charges 
to inventing new and possibly more hazardous 
amusements than any of which he had heard ; 
but the unrestrained use of rifles and pistols — 
that must be suppressed at once. 

“ You have come near doing great harm by 
your carelessness, little Fritz ; and, as a reminder 
of it, I think I shall have to forbid your using 
your weapons any more, until some of your 
relatives return. I am sorry, but — ” 

“What makes you do it, then?” demanded 
Fritz, coolly interrupting what he foresaw would 
be a long lecture. If he had to be punished, he 
liked to be at once, and have done with it. He 
did n’t like long-drawn ceremonies of any sort. 

“ For the good of the world at large,” 
answered the physician ; “ now you skip to bed ; 


MIXED PICKLES. 


247 


and I would advise that you sleep in your own 
apartment. I don’t think Luke is the best inti- 
mate you could have found.” 

The mention of Luke brought the full force of 
the doctor’s punishment to mind. “ You mean — 
you mean I can’t go hunting woodchucks to- 
morrow?” 

“ Not a woodchuck, ” laughed the doctor ; 
but Fritz saw that the laugh covered a firm deci- 
sion. His face fell as it had not done, even 
when bathed in tears over his possible wounding 
of his sister. Girls, in Fritz^s estimation, were as 
plenty and about as valuable as blackberries ; 
but — woodchucks! The tears with which he 
burrowed his curly head into his pillow five 
minutes later were bitter indeed. 

Having convinced himself that nobody had 
suffered real damage, and having given Paula a 
simple restorative for her startled nerves, the 
weary physician rode away, and left the house- 
hold at The Snuggery to get what rest it could. 

But Octave could not sleep. There was that 
upon her mind which prevented. Yet this 
unusual state of things was not occasioned by 


248 


MIXED PICKLES. 


any anxiety about Paula, or that evening’s expe- 
rience. Finally, to lie still became impossible, 
and, rising, she wrapped herself in the coun- 
terpane from the bed she now enjoyed alone, 
since Paula, at the doctor’s suggestion, had been 
promoted to the honor of occupying grand- 
mother’s room.” There she could sleep undis- 
turbed as late as nature craved the rest. After 
a good sleep she will be as fresh as new,” the 
doctor had told them. 

So, in her lonely chamber, by the light of one 
candle. Octave prepared to unburden herself of 
her great Mystery.” 

Her fingers trembled so that she could hardly 
write, and her heart-beats were so loud she fancied 
that all the family must hear them. She began, 
without prelude, other than the conventional 
Dear Aunt Ruth ” : — 

The great surgeon is to come here to-morrow. I did n’t know 
it till to-day, but he has been unexpectedly called back to Ger- 
many, and if he does n’t come now, Melville’s chance is gone 
forever. Perhaps it is as well so as any way, though I did want 
to have time to prepare your mind a little, for you do worry so. 

And all this dreadful night, when Fritzy has been shooting 
Paula, there has lain poor Melville alone, and contemplating — to- 
morrow ! 1 ’ve been with him as much as I could without making 


MIXED PICKLES. 


249 


Rosetta ask questions; but it was hard to manage. Of course, I 
could n’t go in there without putting my dress on, and as fast as I 
would get it on Rosetta would come in and say, “ Go to bed, 
deary. You can’t do a mite o’ good,” in that motherly way of 
hers, till I thought I should just fly. Then, when I did get a 
chance to slip in to him, Melville would upbraid me for having no 
heart. I begged of him to let me tell the rest of the folks, but he 
would n’t, not till morning, for he says, and I should say the same, 
that he could nit bear to have them talk about it, as they would 
be sure to; who, indeed, could help it? 

Dear me ! I ’m as bad as Rosetta, about punctuation and all 
that. But I am so excited, I don’t know which end my head is 
on; of course that is unladylike to say, but you know what I 
mean. The surgeon is coming at ten o’clock. He is going to 
bring his own assistants with him. He hopes for it to be a suc- 
cess; because, when that young man came up and made the 
examination, he agreed with Fritzy Nunky, that Melville could 
be helped; that he was not really incurable, but it would only be 
by one operation and that a severe one. Fritzy Nunky is at the 
bottom of it; and I am in the middle; but Melville is at the top. 
You see it is he that has to suffer, either being a cripple all his 
life, or having something or other cut, which will let him walk 
some time, after he has learned how. Uncle says he will have to 
learn just as a baby does; but won’t I just be willing to teach 
him ! 

That boy really has developed wonderfully, during the time he 
has been under my supervision. And he is behaving like a little 
hero, this very minute. Then the best part of it is that he is to be 
famous and heroic all at one and the same time. The last 
letter he had from Professor von Flolsneck he said that every 
experiment but one had been successful. The professor is most 
enthusiastic; and I am so proud, because it was I who introduced 
him to the family. Of course, if anything goes wrong, I shall 
telegraph; but if you don’t hear from me in that way, you will 
know that the operation is a success. 

I can’t write any more now, for my candle has burned out, and 


250 


MIXED PICKLES. 


I have it “ borne in on me ” that I should go to Melville. Oh, I 
forgot. I haven’t told you but half the “ Mystery ” yet; but you 
will have to wait, for there goes the candle ! 

The letter had no signature ; and it needed 
none. No one save Octave could have written 
it. 

But by the same mail which carried it another 
was sent. This, composed by Content, had some- 
thing more of lucidity, if also more that was 
startling. 

The letter tells the story of what had been 
going on at The Snuggery better than it could 
otherwise be told. 

Dear Aunt Ruth : 

This morning, at ten o’clock, a carriage drove up to our gate 
and out of it there stepped three gentlemen. Octave had just 
frightened us all nearly to death by telling us that Melville was 
this morning to undergo an operation to see if his limbs could 
not be straightened. The operation was considered a simple jone, 
though it is comparatively a new one; and only one German 
surgeon has as yet performed it successfully. That surgeon is a 
friend of Mr. Pickel; and “Uncle Fritz” persuaded him to come 
up here and operate on Melville. This was at Melville’s own 
request, and it was something which could be done here as well as 
in a hospital. 

There was a trained woman nurse, and one of the three men is 
also a trained nurse, and he is to stay here until Melville is quite 
well again. The others were doctors, and Dr. Winslow was here 
with another physician from the village. Octave stayed in the 


MIXED PICKLES. 


251 


room all the time; and the only sign she showed of being fright- 
ened was when they called for Rosetta’s long ironing-table, and 
carried that into Melville’s sitting-room. She turned so white 
then that I thought she M^ould faint, and I ran to her; but she put 
me au^ay at once. “Don’t! I am all right! ” she said; and she 
seemed to be, but I couldn’ t have done it. As for Paula, she is 
in bed recovering from her shot-at episode. Christina has taken 
Fritz and gone away into the woods, and Rosetta is crying in the 
kitchen, or she was the last time I saw her. 

This is part of the great MYSTERY which Melville and Octave 
have had; and it has all turned out splendidly. The operation is, 
as far as they can judge, a perfect success; and words cannot tell 
you how glad Melville is; but I don’t believe he is half as glad as 
Octave. That girl just beams ! They did n’t tell you on account 
of grandma; and even Mr. Pickel didn’t know when it was to 
be, though he has written heaps of letters and arranged everything 
as far as he could, being absent. 

The other part, the Professor von Holsneck part is, as far as I 
understand it, like this : Melville has always been fond of messing 
with chemicals and weeds and things on that queer invalid table 
of his. All his experiments have had but one end in view; and 
that one such as a boy who has suffered so much would value the 
most. He wanted to cure pain. If he could not cure it, at least 
to ease it; and he has accomplished the most wonderful thing! 

But, there is Octave calling. I do hope that nothing has hap- 
pened ! Luke is just going to the village, so I will send this right 
along, and write some more to-morrow. 

Good by, in loving haste. 


CON'I'ENT. 


CHAPTER XXIL 


‘‘ Letters for me? That is good,” said Ruth 
Kinsolving, as the pleasant-faced servant brought 
in the morning mail. “ Home letters, too. 
Mother Amy.” 

Grandmother Kinsolving smiled. She had 
learned to watch her daughter’s face with con- 
siderable amusement, whenever missives from the 
“ pickle ’’-invaded Snuggery were received. 
There was always something in them to disquiet 
the order-loving little lady herself, but the real 
burden of anxiety was felt by Ruth. 

Even when events appeared to the young folks 
in the old house to have been running with won- 
derful smoothness, these absent home-makers 
found cause for perplexity. Of late, however, 
there had been a dearth of “ happenings ” ; and 
the soul of Ruth had something akin to that of 
Rosetta, in that she prophesied evil from this 
quietude. 

I dread to open them, mother. It is impos- 


MIXED PICKLES, 253 

sible but that something out of common has 
occurred by this time.” 

Read away, daughter. Thee had been grow- 
ing wiser, I fancied ; certainly, ever since thy 
visit home, thee has seemed less disturbed. 
But, read away ! I am the one who is impatient 
now.” 

Ruth prepared to comply, but an interruption 
occurred in the shape of a visit from an invited 
guest; and the fateful epistles of Content and 
Octave were laid aside for a more convenient 
hour. 

There can be nothing in them that will not 
keep, ” said Ruth to herself, as she helped the 
guest to lay aside her wraps, and to make her- 
self comfortable for the day. 

The visitor was an old friend of Amy Kinsolv- 
ing’s youth ; and there was something so pretty 
in the meeting of the old ladies that Ruth utterly 
forgot all other interests for the next few hours. 
Then, before the convenient ” one arrived, 
another guest appeared ; and* that one no other 
than Uncle Fritz himself. 

To say that his unexpected arrival set every- 


254 


MIXED PTCXLES, 


thing in commotion is to say only what would 
have been surmised by those who knew him 
best. But the commotion was still a happy one, 
and, if he knew anything of what Octave and 
Content had vainly tried to communicate, he did 
not mention it. Indeed, to Grandmother Kin- 
solving’s inquiry as to when he had heard from 
the children he replied : “ Oh, I have but just 
come from there, I made them a flying visit first, 
then hurried right away here. I did not know 
I could get off so soon, though it has indeed 
seemed long to me since I looked upon your 
face, dear madam ” ; and the genial gentleman 
bowed over Mother Amy’s hand with a grace 
which won upon her heart, opposed even as it 
had always been to ceremonies. 

After awhile it became evident to Aunt Ruth 
that Mr. Pickel had something which he particu- 
larly wished to say to her ; and so, leaving her 
mother to enjoy her friend, the pretty Quakeress 
tied on her stiff bonnet and led him away to her 
favorite spot by the sea-shore. But, from the 
expression of his countenance, anxious perhaps, 
though not at .all distressed, it did not appear 


MIXED PICKLES, 


255 


that he had come to be the bearer of ill tidings ; 
and as his confidence had nothing especial in 
connection with the events then enacting at 
The Snuggery, it need not be speculated upon 
here. 

Suffice it to say that this confidence delayed 
the two — and so unlike — guardians of “a jar 
of pickles ” for such an unheard of length of time, 
that Mother Amy finally grew anxious, and dis 
patched the pleasant-faced servant to hunt the 
delinquents up. 

They came in, at last, looking so at peace with 
themselves and all the world that Mrs. Kinsolv- 
ing’s own face brightened; though she opened 
her conversation with the gentle remonstrance : 

I was sorry thee did not come in time to see 
friend Barbara off.” 

“ O Mother Amy ! That is too bad ! Thee 
must forgive my inattention.” 

“ It is nothing, of course ; there was no espe- 
cial reason why thee should have come, but I 
think she would have liked to speak with thee 
again.” 

Ruth glanced at Uncle Fritz, and said nothing. 


256 


MIXED PICKLES. 


What could she say, since till that moment she 
had quite forgotten the existence of friend Bar- 
bara Fletcher? 

Uncle Fritz seemed, also, strangely unmindful 
of people’s prejudices, for he sauntered to the 
window, whistling the very gayest and most 
worldly of operatic airs. Amy Kinsolving looked 
anxiously toward her daughter, fearing she would 
reprimand the gentleman for his lack of taste; 
but she need not have feared, though Ruth’s 
fearless tongue had corrected more than one 
such offence, swift on its commission. 

Since Ruth did not object, and seemed, indeed, 
to be lost in some happy thoughts of her own. 
Grandmother Amy softly sighed in her relief. 
Aloud she said : 

“ I need not ask thee if the children are doing 
as they should. I see by thy face that there is 
nothing amiss; but, if Fritz does not object, I 
should like to hear thee read the home letters 
now, daughter.” 

“The letters?” asked Ruth. She had forgot- 
ten them along with Barbara Fletcher! Again 
she shot that funny - glance of hers “ Fritzy 


MIXED PICKLES, 257 

Nunley’s ” way, and this time a very pretty pink- 
ish color crept up into her cheeks. “ Mother ! 
thee will think I am a heartless girl ; but I had 
forgotten the letters, too. I have not read them.” 

“ No, I do not think thee heartless — but please 
to read them now,” answered Mother Amy, with 
a peculiar smile. 

And with her cheeks brighter than ever, Ruth 
opened the two letters. “ I ’ll glance through 
them first, mother; thee knows I like to do 
so.” For this aunt of many tribulations had 
learned that there were some happenings which 
even her honest tongue would best withhold 
from the gentle old mistress of The Snuggery. 
If she had told Mother Amy quite all that went 
on in her beloved home, perhaps her recovery 
would not have been as rapid or as thorough as 
it had been. 

Mrs. Kinsolving and Uncle Fritz fell into con- 
versation, while Ruth extracted the sting, as it 
were, from the home letters before she shared 
them with the others. But, after awhile, it 
seemed even to these two patient souls as if this 
proceeding was one of infinite labor and thought. 


258 


MIXED PICKLES. 


judging from the time it consumed; and they 
turned from the window through which they had 
been watching the play of some little ones upon 
the lawn, to inquire the reason. 

‘Then, with a cry of alarm, they each sprang 
forward, as Ruth, for almost the first time in 
her life, nearly succumbed to the weakness of 
fainting. 

Nearly, but not quite. The terrified look in 
her mother’s eyes, and Uncle Fritz’s sustaining 
clasp recalled her fleeing senses. “I — I’d like 
a drink of — water ! ” 

She had it on the instant, and, after she had 
drunken part of it, her color came back and she 
was able to speak quite firmly. “It is about as 
bad as it can be, but lest thee should think it 
worse than it is, I will try to read them. Fritz, 
thee should have told me.” 

Then she resolutely took hold of the closely 
written sheets, and, disdaining all Mr. Pickel’s 
offers of assistance, read them through to the 
end. Those who were familiar with the varying 
tones of Ruth Kinsolving’s voice would have 
judged from it then that she was very deeply 


MIXED PICKLES. 


259 


moved. Even Uncle Fritz, who should have 
been so much a stranger, understood it ; and had 
Melville heard her he would certainly have said, 
“ Aunt Ruth means business ! ” 

Poor Mother Amy was almost as much dis- 
turbed by the tidings which were so ambiguously 
conveyed through Octave’s and Content’s stories 
as her. daughter had been;, but she was the first 
to recover her scattered wits. ‘‘ Then, since no 
telegram has come, it must have all turned out 
for the best.” 

‘‘It has, dear madam; it has, indeed!” cried 
Uncle Fritz. 

“ The best. Mother Amy ! - Can thee see any 
‘ best ’ even in this ? ” 

“ Why, yes, my child. It is best for Melville 
to have had this chance, this Providential bless- 
ing ; and it is as well that it should all have been 
gone through with without thy knowledge. Thee 
would have worried thyself ill.” 

“ Humph I ” said Ruth ; replying to her mother 
as she had rarely before replied. 

Then she turned to Uncle Fritz. “ And so thee 
has known this all along, and did not tell me ? ” 


26 o 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Poor Fritzy Nunky almost shivered in his 
shoes ; but, being of the same valiant stuff as his 
small nephew, he rallied to the occasion. “ Yes, 
sweetheart, I knew. But I would not have had 
thee know it for a fortune, till it was done and 
safely done.” At which remarkable speech 
Mother Amy opened her eyes most widely, 
though Ruth dropped hers. 

“ Well, ” said that young person at last, and 
after a rather uncomfortable silence ; since 
every inconceivable thing has happened which 
could happen, I suppose there is no objection to 
my going home.” 

“ Not the least in the world,” answered Uncle 
Fritz, generously. 

“ No ; it is high time we went. Thee had 
best go and pack up, my daughter, while I have 
a word or two with Fritz, here. We will go 
home, or start for home to-night, by the even- 
ing boat.” Grandmother Kinsolving’s tone had 
that ring of authority she so rarely exercised, 
but which there was no mistaking. 

Ruth gave her mother one glance, then 
stooped and kissed the fair old cheek before she 


MIXED PICKLES. 


261 


hurried from the room. But again the stalwart 
Fritz had fallen to trembling; and that before 
the gentlest of little women, in the meek garb of 
a Friend, whose question might mean much or 
little, according to the hearer’s mood : “ Well, 
Fritz?” 


CHAPTER XXIII. 


The trained nurse had gone out of the room, 
leaving Octave in charge of the patient. 

“ You are patient and the patient, both, dear 
Melville,” said the girl, affectionately laying her 
warm hand on the lad’s thin one. “ You are a 
hero ! I ’ve been wanting to say it ever since — 
three days ago; but that ever-watchful nurse 
has n’t given me a chance. I ’m as proud of you 
as proud ! ” 

Melville smiled. “ I am not much of a hero, 
dear ; but I ought to be patient. Indeed, there 
does n’t seem to be any need for that virtue now. 
Only think, in a very few weeks the surgeon said 
I could begin to try my limbs. Think ! when 
I ’ve lain here so many years, without the shadow 
of a hope that I should ever be any better ! A 
fellow ought to be willing to bear anything for 
such a gain.” 

Octave’s eyes filled. It had, strangely enough, 
never seemed half so pitiful to her that Melville 


MIXED PICKLES. 


263 


should be a cripple till this possibility of his cure 
arose to cheer them on. “ Laddie, if it had been 
me, I should have been perfectly horrid. I — 
I think I should have had to be shut up in a 
cage.” 

Nonsense ! You would have been just the 
same happy, cheering-up body that you are 
now.” 

Pooh ! don’t be silly. I never did like flat- 
tery.” 

“ But, it is n’t flattery. Octave. You don’t 
know how much you have done for me — ” 

I do, beg pardon ; I have laughed at you 
and scolded you and tormented you into doing 
things till you hated me and everybody. But, 
my son, I did it for your good. That is what 
the grown-up people remark when they are espe- 
cially disagreeable. And is n’t it splendid? That 
great doctor says he can cure Paula Pickel of 
trapesing around as a spook, at all hours of the 
night. He says he considers it only a nervous 
disorder, and that a prescription he gave me will 
help her. I told him about her whil^ he was 
waiting to have Rosetta make him a cup of coffee, 


264 


MIXED PICKLES, 


that Other day, after — after he ’d fixed you up. 
I thought I’d make a clean business of every- 
thing, and get everybody patched up who needed 
mending. One I forgot, though. That was 
Luke. He declares that he has something the 
matter with his arms which keeps him from doing 
certain things he ought to do. He — Lukey 
Tewky — called me aside and asked me : ‘ What 
did he say about me?’ ‘Say about you! He 
did not even dream of your existence,’ said I. 
‘ Oh ! do tell him about my arms, won’t you ? ’ 
and just then along came Abry-ham, and he 
caught hold of his son and shook him so that if 
anything ailed him it was shaken out.” 

Melville laughed as gaily as his entertainer 
desired, at this picture of the farmer and his son. 
“ Keep his spirits up,” the great surgeon had 
bidden her ; “ there is more healing in an unaf- 
fected laugh than in the whole materia medica!' 
Which statement the wise man may not have 
intended to be taken as literally as Octave took 
it. However, it was certain that the girl who 
had devoted herself so unselfishly to her crippled 
cousin did him more good than any other com- 


MIXED PICKLES. 265 

panion ; and Melville would have had her in his 
sick-room all the time had he been allowed. 

Let ’s talk about the discovery ; that is part 
mine, you know, if the surgeon part does belong 
to Fritzy Nunky. Nobody but just Octave would 
ever have dared to go and see such a wonderful 
creature as my dear old professor has turned out 
to be. I don’t think / would dare do it again, 
after all Aunt Ruth’s remarks about the boldness 
of it. I suppose it was dreadful, but I am awfully 
glad I did it, all the same. Are n’t you ? ” 

“ Octave, it is almost too splendid to be 
true. Read this letter.” The sick boy drew 
out from under his pillow a brief note from the 
great scientist, whose every written word had so 
genuine a value. If brief, it was also enthusi- 
astic. The writer had seen the famous specialist. 
Dr. Karl Ettmiiller, had learned that not only 
was the operation eminently successful but that 
the anaesthetic of Melville’s discovery had been 
thoroughly and happily tested first in Melville’s 
own case. He wrote to congratulate : “ He who 
has reduced the burden of physical agony is a 
philanthropist, and he who discovers one of 


266 


MIXED PICKLES. 


God’s own cures is a genius. My lad, I hold 
you to be both ; and when you shall be physically 
able, I ask you to come and take a position in 
my laboratory. It will give the old man new 
vigor to feel that such an one as you is beside 
him.” 

“ O Melville ! Is it true? Is it really true? I 
shall have to pinch myself to make myself 
believe it.’^ Octave'’s eyes were shining, and her 
cheeks glowed with delight. 

“ It is, it must be, true, Octave ; since here it is 
in black and white. I have to take it out from 
under my pillow a dozen times a day to read it 
over, since I have n’t your felicitous method of 
convincing myself. Octave, I ’d rather have that 
letter, that offer, than all the money in the 
world ! ” 

“ So would I ! ” cried the girl, responsively ; 
then paused to purse up her merry lips in a 
doubtful fashion. “ I don’t know about that, 
though, laddie; all the money in all the world 
would be a ‘ purty consid’able of a pile,’ as 
Abry-ham would say. One could do a heap of 
good with all that money,” 


MIXED PICKLES, 26 / 

“Well, don’t be disagreeable, Octave. It is 
splendid, and you can’t deny it.” 

“ Who wishes to ? See here, my friend, you 
may be a hero now, as I remarked a few minutes 
since, but you are not yet an angel. You are 
still quite — Capersy ! ” 

Melville laughed. “ I do not pose either as a 
hero or an angel ; it is yourself who gives me the 
attributes of such. I only aspire — ” 

“ Bless the lad ! Don’t begin to talk too 
booksy, just because you are a genius-philan- 
thropist ! But we did have a Mystery ! Even 
Aunt Ruth will have to admit that ; and we did 
keep it all to our two selves, with a few necessary 
others like Fritzy Nunky and the specialist and 
the scientist and the attendants, ‘and — ” 

But the mutual-congratulation meeting was 
speedily broken up. Outside the house a strange 
uproar had arisen. Don brayed ; Rosetta cried : 
“ To goodness knows ! ” Fritzy set up a shout 
that could have been heard a long distance;- 
Abraham gave the peculiar whistle that with him 
indicated intense and pleased surprise ; doors 
slammed, even the well-trained doors of The 


268 


MIXED PICKLES. 


Snuggery, which had missed Aunt Ruth’s fre- 
quent “ oily feather ” ; feet sounded in a rush 
over the gravel walks. But none of these 
unwonted if joyful sounds could drown the cheery 
rumble of wheels, nor the “ Hoa ! halloa ! ” 
which only one hearty German throat could 
give. 

“ Fritzy Nunky! Fritzy Nunky ! ” shouted 
Octave, and started to run away. 

Suddenly something stayed her speeding feet. 
Three months ago the something would have 
had no effect; but now she stopped, and going 
back to the bed-side sat down and laid her hand 
again on that of Melville. 

Weak and shaken yet, by the ordeal he had so 
lately and so manfully passed through, he could 
not subdue the tremor which seized him at 
sound of the well-known voice. Unspeakable 
thoughts of pride and humility, affection and 
loneliness, stole through the invalid’s mind. After 
all his achievments, after all his endurance — he 
was still alone. Aunt Ruth had her mother, the 
Pickels had their beloved guardian, but he — 
had only a memory of a love which had never 


MIXED PICKLES. 


269 


failed him, but which he had despised till it 
was lost. “ Genius” and “ philanthropist ” others 
might call him; but at that moment of others’ 
reunion, Melville remembered only that he was a 
sick and orphaned lad. 

Then he felt the touch of sympathy upon 
his hand, and brought round his eyes from the 
wall where he had turned them to Octave’s 
face. 

“Why don’t you go and meet your uncle?” 
he asked, pettishly. 

“ Because I would rather stay here,” answered 
Octave, quietly. 

“ You need n’t make a martyr of yourself! ” 

“ Nor you a bear of yourself! ” 

“ I would rather you went. I don’t mind being 
left alone. I ’m used to it.” 

“That’s a — a fib; two fibs.” , 

“ You told one, too.” 

“ I did n’t, I told the truth ; I want to stay.” 

“ Then when he comes in, if he should come 
in, he — ” 

“ Why should you mind seeing him now, since 
have seen him once since — hush ! he is 


you 


270 


MIXED PICKLES. 


coming in now; so is Aunt Ruth; so is grand- 
mother; so — ” 

Well, my precious lambs ! So I have found 
you together, ” said the sweet voice of Amy 
Kinsolving. They have all told me what thee 
has done for Melville, little Octave. I knew thee 
had a good heart, dear ! ” 

** Yes, together ; and at our old occupation, — 
quarrelling, ” replied Octave, so demurely that 
everybody laughed, and any dangerous flood of 
sentiment was happily averted. 

Then, how the tongues flew ! How gay and 
how glad was everybody ! And, how the silliest 
little speeches made everybody smile, only those 
who have been parted and happily reunited can 
fancy. 

After grandmother had been put into Mel- 
ville’s easiest^ corner on the old lounge, which he 
boasted he had vacated forever, the “ Mystery ” 
was taken out of its hiding-place, and all that 
had been dimly understood made plain. The 
project of the surgeon’s visit, and the project of 
the anaesthetic being tested by its discoverer in 
his own proper person, before he let it be on any 


MIXED PICKLES, 


271 


Other human being — that was what the “ Mys- 
tery ” resolved itself into, when all was said and 
done. 

But the greatest events of the world’s history 
may be told in a few words ; why, then, not 
these? Though the far-reaching effects of those 
events neither words which have been nor words 
which shall be said can ever half depict. So 
thought these loving hearts, it may be, under 
God’s blessing, with Melville’s discovery; a dis- 
covery he had doubtless never made had he not 
been laid upon a bed of physical helplessness, 
and left to observe and make his world out of the 
trivial happenings which went on before his one 
window. And the wisest know that in the won- 
derful economy of nature there is nothing trivial 
or beneath their notice. 

A peaceful quietude fell on them all for a little 
while, and no one cared to speak or mar it. 
Grandmother Amy’s face took on that look it 
always wore when her soul was moved by the 
Spirit. She was far away, just then, from her 
material surroundings, in that higher world which 
seemed to those who loved and watched her as 
her native air. 


272 


MIXED PICKLES. 


The silence might have continued much longer 
had not little Fritz been suddenly moved to 
“ speak in meeting.” He was opposed to senti- 
ment in any shape, and he had borne as much 
of it as he could well endure. So, from his throne 
in Fritzy Nunky’s arms, he stooped and whispered 
with startling distinctness : ‘‘I’m awful hungry ! ” 
With a relief that proved how close, after all, 
is the bond between flesh and spirit, every other 
member of the group promptly remembered that 
he or she was hungry, too. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 


Some days later, Fritz appeared in the kitchen, 
only to be speedily informed by Rosetta that “ I 
hain’t no time to bother with young ones now ! 
Here, take a cookie if ye want it, an’ clear out ! ” 

“ I don’t want a cookie, and I don’t want to 
clear out. I want somebody to talk to.” 

“ Talk ter somebody ’t ain’t so busy as I be, 
then ! I ’ve got about forty hundred things ter 
do this very day, an’ here it is goin’ on ten 
o’clock, a’ready.” 

^‘What ‘forty hundered ’ things, Rosetta? 
Paula says that you zaggerate turribly. I don’t 
know ezactly what zaggerate means, but I ’m 
afraid it is somethin’ like tellin’ a lie. You 
wouldn’t tell a lie, would you, Rosetta?” re- 
sponded the little boy, in a tone that revealed 
his distress over Rosetta’s danger. 

“ Here, if ye hev sunthin’ ter do ye won’t ast 
so many foolish questions. Take this bowl of 
raisins an’ set down an’ stun ’em.” 


274 


MIXED PICKLES. 


That was labor wholly congenial to Fritzy’s 
temper, or he fancied that it would be, and he 
obediently took the bowl and dropped upon the 
floor to help Rosetta,” as he had occasion- 
ally been allowed to do before. 

The good woman was indeed very busy. She 
was a famous cook, but in all the time he had 
been at The Snuggery, Fritz had never smelled 
so many and such savory odors as permeated 
her kitchen at that moment. In the great Dutch 
oven, from “ the hole in the wall,” as he called 
it, there came whiffs of perfume suggesting 
to the chronically hungry child the delights of 
roasting fowls, and even the unusual but never- 
to-be-forgotten fragrance of a “ little piggy 
cookin’ whole.” 

The range oven was full of pies, the shelves 
of the pantry were laden with cakes and jellies, 
and even the little oil-stove was pressed into ser- 
vice to bake tin after tin of puffy looking biscuits. 
Fritz didn’t understand it at all. And when he 
had asked Content why every one was “ tearin’ 
around as if they was possessed so for,” she had 
answered him with honest sympathy : — 


MIXED PICKLES. 


275 


“ I have n’t the least idea in the world, dearie. 
It seems as if grandmother must be expecting a 
lot of company; for even we couldn’t eat half 
the stuff Rosetta is preparing. I asked Aunt 
Ruth if any one was coming, and she told me to 
‘ watch out sharp and see.’ I knew then that I 
was to ask no more questions ; but I do hope we 
shall have a taste of all the nice things ; don’t 
you?” 

‘‘Don’t I?” responded Fritz; and with that 
hope in mind he had invaded the kitchen. 

Rosetta at last bethought herself that the child 
was unusually quiet, and paused in her vigorous 
thumping of the bread dough to look behind her 
toward his corner. There was a goodly pile of 
sticky seeds upon her polished floor; the bowl 
of raisins had become a bowl of emptiness ; but 
in the basin which should have been filled, to 
make all the terms of the problem satisfactory, 
there were but a few torn and scraggy bits of 
fruit. 

“ Fritzy Pickel ! What in the name o’ common- 
sense ! Where hev ye put them raisins ? ” 

“ Where? Wh — why, in the basin,” answered 


2/6 


MIXED PICKLES. 


the boy, bending forward and looking into it with 
a perfectly satisfied expression on his dirty face. 

Did n’t you say to put ’em there? ” 

“That’s just what I did say; but, ye bad boy, 
ye ’ve put ten in yer mouth ter ary one went inter 
the dish ! I don’t want no more sech help, an’ ef 
my hands was n’t all over dough, I ’d fix ye ! 
Clear right out o’ here, quick ! ” 

Fritz waited no second order. Rosetta’s face 
was not a pleasant one at that instant ; but when 
he stopped to ask, from a prudently safe posi- 
tion outside the doorway, what she was “ a- 
cookin’ sech a lot for?” she replied savagely, if 
with something like tears in her eyes : “I’m 
a-cookin’ — fer folks ! But I ’d a’most ruther do 
it fer a fun’ral ! ” 

More perplexed than ever, and with that sort 
of feeling in his small stomach which demanded 
sympathy, he wandered away into “ grand- 
mother’s part ” of the house. It was always 
sunshiny and delightful in “ grandmother’s part,” 
and to it as a haven of rest the raisin-surfeited 
youngster turned, secure of a reception that 
would be kind. 


MIXED PICKLES. 2/7 

I ’ll tell grandma about that old Rosetta 
thing ! She ’s Grosser than cross ! ” But though 
grandmother smiled sweetly upon her little grand- 
son as he entered, it was in an absent sort of way 
which seemed rather the force of habit than of 
welcome. She was talking with FritzyNunky; 
and, as naturally as possible, Fritz second marched 
to the uncle’s knee to be lifted up. 

Nunky can’t take you now, little man Run 
away and read your books in the corner.” 

Fritzy was mad. And his stomach did begin 
to feel very queer. He kept tasting raisins and 
tasting them, till he felt as if he should never 
care to see another. But as there was absolutely 
nothing else to be done, he went to the corner 
designated, and sat down to look at pictures. 

Grandmother and Uncle Fritz paid no attention 
to him ; indeed, they quite forgot his presence, 
and went on talking as if he were a nobody. 
Fritz resented this at first; then he became 
interested in what they were saying; and at a 
word of Uncle Fritz about Munich and the 
schools there, he sat up and listened intently. 

“Nay, Fritz!” said grandmother; and her 


2/8 


MIXED PICKLES. 


voice had rarely sounded so sharp. “ Nay, thee 
must not ask that. Thee is taking the light of 
my eyes away from me in my old age, but thee 
must leave me my children’s children.” 

That was queer, wasn’t it? Yet Uncle Fritz 
appeared to be doing nothing but sitting there in 
the easy-chair and looking straight upon the 
carpet. Finally, he replied : — 

“ Thou must not blame me. Mother Amy. 
Thou shouldst blame thy own self, who hast made 
her the lovely woman that she is. I could not 
help but love her ; and thou — thou must have 
left thy mother’s side also.” 

“ Does thee think I will fight against nature, 
Fritz? I blame nobody; but when thee and she 
think to rob me of my little ones, then I will not 
let thee have thy will.” 

Fritz second began to be very much interested, 
indeed. He forgot all about the “ raisiny-pain,” 
and pictured pages were as dross. He knew 
they were talking about “ the children,” and that 
included himself.. 

''But the care, think of the care. Even for 
the six months that we shall be away it will be 
too much for thy feeble strength.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


279 


Humph ! ” said grandmother, and she said it 
exactly like Aunt Ruth. ‘‘’I am only seventy- 
seven years of age. I have excellent health, and 
my parents lived to be over ninety.” 

“ If thou wouldst only go with us ! ” pleaded 
Fritzy Nunky, eloquently. 

Grandmother shook her head vigorously. “ In 
this house I have lived ever since my husband 
left me. In this house I will remain till my own 
summons comes. Having nobody else to cosset, 
Ruth has cosseted me, and pretended to her 
loving heart that I required it. I do not. I am 
fully capable of caring for all those whom the 
Lord sends to my keeping. I have thought it 
all out. There shall come a governess here, and 
the children shall be regularly taught all that it is 
necessary they should know. Melville will be 
with his great professor in a very few weeks, so 
friend Winslow tells me. The rest of us will 
abide in our place and be at peace. Go, thee 
and Ruth, and be as happy as were my compan- 
ion and I. I could wish thee nothing more ; 
but take this step only in the fear of the 


28 o 


MIXED PICKLES, 


Fritzy got up and walked softly to his grand- 
mother’s chair. 

By that time Fritzy Nunky was pacing up the 
long apartment and down again, in a very dis- 
turbed sort of fashion. No wonder, Fritz the 
second thought, if, as grandmother said, he was 
really taking away from her the light of her eyes ! 
The child felt a sudden revulsion of feeling to- 
ward his beloved guardian of which he might not 
have been thought capable. He cast a scowling 
glance upon the burly, striding figure, and wished 
that he could fight it. Then he leaned his sticky 
hands on Mother Amy’s knees and peered curi- 
ously up into her tear-dimmed eyes. 

“What is it, little lad?” asked the old lady 
gently, and bending down to kiss her darlings’ 
face. 

“Is he really doing it? What makes him? 
And does it hurt you very much ? ” 

“ Doing what, Fritz? ” 

“ Taking the light out of your eyes.” 

“ Nay, nay ! not wholly so ! ” cried Grand- 
mother Amy, bending her face upon the sturdy 
little shoulder of the child ; “ he cannot do that, 
little one, while he leaves me thee.” 


MIXED PICKLES. 


281 


Then Fritz climbed up into her lap, and 
scowled ferociously at Uncle Fritz, who — terri- 
fied, it may be — went quickly out and closed the 
door. 

But the hubbub of the kitchen did not extend 
to the other parts of the great house ; though, 
strangely enough. Aunt Ruth seemed to have 
found plenty of occupation for everybody’s hands ; 
though she assigned the various tasks with a sort 
of gentle sadness which surprised the toilers, so 
different was it from her usual brisk activity. 
And when Octave had finished her allotted por- 
tion she sped to Melville’s room to talk it over. 

My son, there is another ‘ Mystery ’ afoot. I 
know it, I feel it ! It ’s ‘ borne in on me.’ There 
has been food enough cooked to feed a regiment, 
and every nook and cranny of this mansion has 
been swept and garnished. Strangest part of all. 
Aunt Ruth is in it ; and I ’m inclined to think 
that Fritzy Nunky is too, for he acts so queer ! 
A few minutes ago he met me in the hall, and he 
stopped me and kissed me. ^ I wonder if I am 
doing right by thee, my child,’ he said, in the 
gravest fashion. I told him I considered that he 


282 


MIXED PICKLES. 


was doing exactly right; for this very morning 
he called me into his room and gave me a pretty 
silver watch, and a pocket-book with ten whole 
dollars in it. Think of that, Melville Capers ! 
I, Octave Pickel, the impecunious, with ten real 
dollars all my very own ! ” 

“It is almost incredible. But don’t worry; 
you ’ll not have them long ; you have no liking 
for money,” answered Melville, consolingly. 

“ Humph ! I do so like it — to spend ! ” 

“ I, too, think there is another ‘ Mystery ’ ; 
but it can never be half so splendid as ours. I 
think your Uncle Fritz is in it even more deeply 
than Aunt Ruth. This morning, it must have 
been after he had given you the pocket-book, he 
came in to see me ; and he talked to me so seri- 
ously about my responsibility as the ‘ head of the 
family in America,’ that I could n’t believe my 
own ears. It did n’t seem at all like his jolly 
self ; and, ‘ Mystery ’ or not, I don’t believe 
that these other conspirators are getting half as 
much fun, or good either, out of it as we did 
out of ours. There is a lot of company coming, 
though, I know. Grandmother never had so 


MIXED PICKLES. 


283 


much cooked before, Abry-ham says, oven for 
^yearly meeting,^ when she has a houseful of 
thees and thous.” 

In came Paula, visibly excited, and in great 
haste. “ Octave, Aunt Ruth says we are to go 
up stairs and put on our best dresses, for there 
is company coming. A lot of old Quaker 
Friends, and who do you think? Why, the great 
doctor and the great professor and his wife, and 
the village folks, and everybody you can think 
of. I knew you M have to mend your frock, for 
you tore it the last time you had it on, so I 
thought I ’d tell you right away.” 

“ Oh, bother ! I hate company ! I wanted 
Octave to help me with some problems. We 
have n’t had one single minute to study sifice the 
folks came home ! ” exclaimed Melville, peevishly. 

“ Well, I ’ve borne that deprivation in an angelic 
spirit,” retorted Octave ; who found sitting 
patiently to work out Melville’s incomprehensible 
problems a terrible tax upon her restless spirit. 

But Aunt Ruth beats me ; she ought to be 
in a perfect fever of nervousness, but she is as 
calm — as calm ! ” said Melville, who had re- 


284 


MIXED PICKLES. 


ceived many unusual visits from her during that 
morning. Visits which appeared to have no 
special object, but which were apparently in- 
tended as sympathetic, — that is, as far as Mel- 
ville could understand them. 

Soon after dinner the expected guests began 
to arrive ; and even then Ruth was everywhere 
about the house, receiving her friends and show- 
ing them to the most comfortable seats in the 
great, old-fashioned parlor, which had been 
thrown open to the fresh September air, and 
from which a door opening into Melville’s sitting- 
room had been unlocked, for the first time in 
many years. His cot had been rolled to this 
door-way, and there he lay conversing with his 
revered professor, who had promptly appeared 
on the noon train. 

The great surgeon and Uncle Fritz were deep 
in the discussion of a “ beautiful case ” which 
Fritz must be sure to see when he passed through 
London. 

London! Was he going away to it soon? 
Octave felt her heart sink strangely; and she 
unconsciously clutched little Fritz’s hand so that 
he protested. 


MIXED PICKLES. 


285 


Then everybody came in from all the rooms 
where they had been wandering ; even Rosetta, 
in a clean print gown, and Abry-ham in his Sun- 
day clothes, and Luke, smelling of bear’s oil and 
pomatum. And they ranged themselves all 
around the place, so “ fer all the world like a 
fun’ral ” that Rosetta was seized then and there 
with a desire to weep. When she did so, with 
audible moans, it was high time to put an end to 
the — “ Mystery.” 

So, evidently, thought Uncle Fritz ; for he 
arose and, crossing to Aunt Ruth’s side, held out 
his great hand invitingly. 

Then she, looking like a sweet blush rose, 
wrapped in a cloak of soft gray moss, stood up 
and faced him ; and before anybody could do 
much more than sigh their amazement, those 
two people had — married themselves ! 

So that was the “ Mystery ” then ! A Quaker 
wedding ! “ Pooh ! ” said Melville ; “ it was n’t 

half so great as ours. Anybody can get married ! ” 

Then there was such a deal of hand-shaking 
and good-wishing that Octave could n’t just bear 
it. She was sorry and she was glad ; and all she 


286 


MIXED PICKLES. 


knew was that she was thankful when it was over, 
and the whole family gathered in characteristic 
groups to watch the misbehaving aunt and uncle 
drive away. 

There was Octave, supporting Melville so that 
he could see through the window what others 
witnessed from the door-way; “the girls,” with 
Christina between them, clinging together on 
the steps; and Fritzy, close beside Grandmother 
Amy. 

Aunt Ruth leaned far out of the carriage, and 
her face was all a conflict of joy and pain. 
“ Fare thee well, my mother ! Do not thee mis- 
judge me, and do — keep safe! ” 

“Pooh! Aunt Ruthy, don’t you worry. /’// 
take care of her.” said little Fritz; and the last 
glimpse Ruth caught of her home showed that 
valiant lad with his arms about his grandmother’s 
waist, and the protecting pride of manhood in 
his honest blue eyes. 


THE END. 


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FAMOUS EUROPEAN ARTISTS. 

By Sarah K. Bolton. With portraits of Raphael, Titian, Landseer, Reynolds, 
Rubens, Turner, and others. i2mo. $1.50. 

FAMOUS AMERICAN AUTHORS. 

By Sarah K. Bolton. Short biographical sketches of Holmes, Longfellow, 
Emerson, Lowell, Aldrich, Mark Twain, and other noted writers. Illustrated with 
portraits. i2mo. $1.50. 

famous ENGLISH AUTHORS OF THE 19th CEN- 
TURY. 

By Sarah K. Bolton. With portraits of Scott, Burns, Carlyle, Dickens, Tenny- 
son, Robert Browning, etc. i2mo. $1.50. 

STORIES FROM LIFE. 

By Sarah K. Bolton. A book of short stories, charming and helpful. i2mo. 

K I > 5.7^ 

For sale hy all booltsellers. Setid for catalogue. 


THOMAS Y. OEOWELL & 00., Publishers, New York. 


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